Ice
by Glamek Stalker
Summary: A terrible beating leaves Ferret lame. And now, he's starving, depressed, and alone. Will he find safety and welcoming for once in his life, or just more neglect? Will he be able to live with his terrible past even, or will he just off himself? Please R
1. Chapter 1

Yes. I wrote a story again. Yes. I erased everything else. No. I do not care. Why did I call this story Ice? I have no idea.

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Ice

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I'm sitting here. I'm always sitting here. It's not like I've got anywhere to go, anyone to turn to. Sometimes I feel like, once the Big Bang came along, that my life has just stopped moving. I feel like I'm stuck in some type of place I don't wanna be. I'm running, always running from someone or something. I've completely forgotten why I'm living anymore. I only eat, and sleep, and breathe. I'm no longer aware of who I am. I don't feel much anymore. I've been slumming around this old abandoned building Hyde's placed us at, wondering what my purpose in life is anymore. I lay down, I sleep, I dream that maybe my life will turn back around, that maybe I can finally do something worth doing, but then I'm awakened by a heavy fist to the gut and I'm drug to the floor where I'm pinned for a few seconds, dark eyes glaring down at me like I'm a piece of worthless scum, and I'm reminded that I have no life of my own anymore. There's no more reason to go on trying. So why do I bother living?

Hyde still keeps me around. I don't see why he bothers. I'm no real use. I can get in quick, and get out quick, and that's about it. I can hunt down anyone he wants me to if he gives me something to work with, but after that, I'm treated like dirt once again. He keeps hurting me. He's always hurting me. And Kangor doesn't do anything to stop it. He just turns away, staring blankly at his own existence. I wonder why he bothers staying here too. He could do well for himself without Hyde, without me. But he stays, and every time I ask him why he bothers staying, he asks me why I bother living. And then I think. For the whole night and the whole day, I'm thinking of myself. I'm thinking why can't I be dead? I don't want to put a bullet to my head or a blade to my wrist. But I don't want to live either. Do I? Do I really just want to die? Do I honestly think that there's nothing left for me but to follow Hyde's every word, to make him happy? Could there really be something for me?

I'm caught thinking again, and I think and I think and I think until I'm hurting because I'm thinking, and Hyde doesn't want me thinking, so he throws me into a wall, and tells me to concentrate, to listen to him, to follow his orders. But I can't listen to him. I do what he says, but I can't understand him, I can't understand why he has to choose this life. Why are we here? Are we his toys or something? Is this some type of government conspiracy? Did aliens zwarp his mind? Is he brainwashed? What is he? He's…a monster. That's all I can call him. I don't know what else to say about him other than he's greedy, he's selfish, and he holds no moral. I hate him. I despise him. I want nothing to do with him.

But if I leave, I'll regret it.

I tried once to leave, but Hyde found me easily. I don't know how he did it, but he did, and once he had me in his grasp once again, he began beating on me. He punched me, he threw me, he insulted me with words that I never thought could be. He'd always end with calling me a worthless piece of scrap, and he doesn't know why he puts up with me. I don't either. And I want to shout it to him, scream it to him, why don't you just throw me away for good?

But I can't, because if I do, I'll regret it. I always end up regretting it. All the time.

And so I just sit here. I sit here and contemplate my very existence. Hyde hates me. Hyde despises me. Hyde needs me. For some ungodly reason he needs me and I want nothing more than to leave him in need and never having what it is he needs. Like me. He can want and want and need and need and there will be nothing and no one there to give it to him, to help him. He'll sit there and he'll think and then he'll die just like everyone else.

But I know I can't leave. It's his need for me; it's my need for him that keeps me here. I don't know why I say I need him but I do know that in some form or way I just might. I don't know. I never know. Hyde doesn't give me time enough to know. He always makes sure my mind isn't too busy thinking. He'd known that it was a dangerous thing to let me think on my own because he had done it once before and I came to him with the question: "Why are we doing this? Why are we hurting people? Why?" And that's why I don't ask why anymore. He had left me within an inch of my life and he hadn't bothered to pull me to my feet the next day, or the day after that. But Kangor had. Kangor had hauled me to my feet, drug me to the old ruddy couch in the room and had tended to my wounds. I guess that's why I feel safer when I'm with him. I feel at peace. I feel so much better. Just looking at him keeps me from ridding the world of myself, or running away again. As long as I know he's here, I can withstand Hyde. I can live through this. I can make it and hopefully, when Hyde is done with me, I can try to start over. I can try to live a life worth living. I can go a day without fear of being tormented by heavy fists and hard kicks. I can be happy. Man, I hadn't been happy in a long time.

I had lain there on the couch while Kangor was looking at my broken fingers and the large bruises on my entire upper body. He had had to remove my shirt to get to my bruised and fractured ribs from when Hyde threw me into the table. He was also looking over the gash I had received on my leg from when Hyde had thrown me into the table he had already broken, and a sharp peace of one of the legs cut across my thigh. It had hurt, bad, but at least I had Kangor. Even if he didn't try to provide comfort, it was what I felt.

"He really did a number on ya," Kangor had muttered as he grabbed hold of my fingers, bending them back into place. I whimpered at the first one and shouted out at the second one. On the third on, the last one, I couldn't make a sound. I could only give a silent scream and close my eyes as I wrapped my good hand over Kangor's shoulder and buried my face in his chest, tears finding their way down my cheeks. God how I hated crying. It showed weakness and vulnerability. It showed that I really was only useful for a punching bag and a hound dog.

While my face was smashed against Kangor's chest, my good hand on his shoulder, claws digging into his flesh, I had noticed something. Kangor didn't pull away. It almost scared me. It caught me so off guard that my tears flowed faster. I tried to make them stop. I tired to pull myself away from him but I couldn't. I just couldn't. His hand was still latched to my limp fingers, but ever so lightly, and he didn't make a move. Not a single move. He just stayed there while I was drenching his shirt in my tears, my claws drawing blood. He'd probably complain later and then Hyde would find me crying and then he'd scowl at me and call me more names and so on and so forth and I'd wind up depressed once again, feeling nothing but a lonely empty feeling inside me. An emptiness that I felt could never be filled.

In a matter of minutes I was finally able to let my head go back against the arm of the couch, though my left hand (my good hand) was still clutched to his arm and he had let go of my other hand. I noticed the signs of pain he was giving now as my claws dragged from his shoulder to his elbow, but he didn't pull away. I felt so bad. I could see the blood I was drawing from his arm, I could see it sliding down my fingers. It scared me. It scared me so much. I was hurting this man. What would Hyde say if he walked in right now and saw this? He'd probably call me a dirty little faggot again and then punch me. He wouldn't even bother with an explanation from Kangor or me. He'd just see Kangor hovering over me with my claws dug into his flesh, forcing him even closer. He wouldn't think of anything else. He'd be furious.

There's another problem Hyde has. And I guess it's another reason why he beats me. It's not like he found out this summer while I was staring at Kangor's shirtless form sweating from the blistering heat. He knew far before that. A long time ago. I guess you could say I knew Hyde long before the Big Bang. But I don't want to get into that right now. In fact, that's the last thing I even want to mention or think about. What he did to me…

I closed my eyes, for only a moment, cutting off the persistent tears. And when I opened them, I saw Kangor holding my wrist, trying to pry off my hand. I guess the pain had been too great for him. His blood was running down my arm now and it scared me more than ever. I quickly jerked my hand away, causing him to hiss in more pain. I looked up at him, regret and sorrow and fear in my eyes. He winced as he held his arm. I hurt him and I was so sorry. I was so scared. What would he do to me now? What would Hyde do if he came in here? What would happen to me?

And that's when he made eye contact with me. I saw those deep brown eyes staring unconsciously into the even darker brown of mine. Whatever he was looking for inside of me, I'm sure he found it because he looked away, letting go of his arm and looking down to my chest. I suddenly felt his cold hands on my pale flesh and I practically yelped. He was running his hands over my ribs and all I could do was whimper when he hit a spot where I'm sure the bone was practically broken. "Looks pretty bad," he said and he started to hold his bleeding arm again. He then took his hand to the gash in my leg where my hand had gone against it. It was bleeding and my blood was getting all over the couch and on my clothes. It wasn't all that bad, but it hurt like a bitch. And when Kangor held his hand against it I was completely out of breath. I don't like pain and I don't take it well and when this happened I thought for sure I would die of just the sheer exhaustion of it all. I swear my heart was beating so fast I thought it would pound out of my chest. I felt a cold sweat overtake me and when Kangor ripped my pants further to get to the wound I almost fainted. The pain.

I don't know how to describe how hurt I was. My head was now pounding right along with my heart and I thought for sure I was going to pass out. My leg was leaking enough blood to feed a family of vampires and my eyes were leaking enough tears to fill an ocean. I felt dizzy, I felt sick, I felt dead somewhat. I didn't know the feeling too well. It hadn't happened this bad before. Hyde had never hurt me this bad. I didn't know if I could take this much longer.

"I wish he could c-could leave me…alone," I wheezed out to Kangor, but for all I knew, he wasn't listening. He glanced at me a bit but then quickly looked away.

Suddenly, I had felt Kangor's cold fingers against my waist and at the edge of my pants. Oh god, I thought, my eyes growing impossibly wide. I quickly jerked away, trying to scoot as far away from Kangor as possible but I was hindered by pain and exhaustion and I'm sure some emotional pain as well. Not to mention, as icy as Kangor's hands were I can't deny that I didn't like his feel, his skin to my skin. But I couldn't allow myself to be vocal about that. Instead, I used the pain and the fear of physical contact that I usually do suffer from as my motive. "I need ta get to the cut mon," he scowled at me as he pulled me back. "Unless ya don't mind wearin' thigh high shorts." That got me. As confused and tired and weary as I was I understood the concept of a man wearing short shorts. It wasn't pretty; especially when you're a pale skinny thing like me whose ex-best friend had given the nickname "milky thighs" to. Not pretty at all. (Ok, I've seen a few boys in my life who don't look half bad with those things on. But that's beside the point.) And so, I let Kangor do his work, wincing as the worn denim brushed against my abused skin. Parts of one leg of my boxers were drenched in red and when I looked down to see how bad the damage was, I thought for sure that I would flinch and look away. But I didn't. Instead I stared. I was enthralled by my own wounds. I knew then that what I drew on pieces of paper must have been the truth. The sight of Kangor's blood didn't scare me. It was just the thought of what might happen to me after that. The sight of my own blood didn't scare me either. In fact, it quite interested me.

I noticed Kangor hesitate for a second. I knew there wasn't much to work with at the moment in mending my leg, but he improvised. I expected him to reach for my shirt, which for the record I had no idea of its whereabouts. Instead though, he took his own shirt. I didn't know what was hurting me anymore. My leg and my entire body, or Kangor's own body right before me as he ripped at his shirt.

Delirious and exhausted, I couldn't hold my head up anymore and by the time it hit the arm of the couch, I was out.

I woke up some hours later, and when I had started to sit up the sudden rush of pain swung over me and I quickly fell back to the couch. For some reason, I hurt more than I had before. My leg had stopped bleeding, so all in all that was a good sign. My fingers still felt totally useless and my sides hurt more than ever still. My left arm though, I couldn't determine. I had moved it to reach for my face to wipe at my eyes but once I started to rotate my shoulder a bit the pain hit me like a racing semi. And all too quickly images raced through my mind. So fast in fact that I could barely register what they were. At a point, I saw Hyde furious as ever with death in his eyes. It came back to me. I thought I was finished. He had shoved Kangor away and had grabbed me by the arm. I remembered screaming. I remembered begging him to let me go; to just leave me alone. He didn't listen though. His grip tightened on my arm and in all too quick a moment I felt myself fall, or rather, be thrown into the nearest wall, which was only about five feet from me but it still hurt. It was excruciating. Hard and fast and I thought for sure my back was broken. Hyde had never let go of my arm though and I guess that's how it came to be the way it was. I winced when I saw the marks left upon my skin.

His hand released me and gravity brought me down to the floor, tears streaking my face and blood staining the walls and floor. I don't remember much after that. I slightly recalled Hyde leaving, threatening Kangor on the way and then I felt Kangor's cold hands on me once again. And then I was on the floor again. Hyde wasn't going to let up this time. He was sick of us pissing him off. Though I don't really know how we accomplished that. I know that deep down in my brainwashed body Hyde was just hurting himself. I recalled shouts and screams and struggles. I remember grunts of pain and thuds of falling masses. And that's when my memories stopped and I blacked out.

And now I lay here, the scent of blood and death still in the air, but there was no body to have claim to them. There was only me in the room. I felt the sudden sense of loneliness once again and the empty feeling in my chest was rising. I felt the tears in my eyes and would have wiped them away before they could fall but one hand still felt immobile and my other arm was too battered to move. It felt like that feeling you get when you work out for hours on end and strain yourself so hard that your muscles feel like bursting out of your skin. Just as the tears started I felt a sudden presence in the room. Out of instinct, I sniffed the air finding a familiar scent and my spirits rose. I was able to turn my head and roll my eyes towards the direction of the scent and that's when I saw Kangor, slightly panting and holding his right shoulder, the same shoulder I had dug my claws into. He was walking in with a limp and one eye was unable to open. The fear came back to me. I was certain Hyde would jump him or something, but I couldn't see the other man anywhere. I couldn't smell him, I couldn't hear him; all I could smell was blood and sweat and mold and dust and a small presence of death. I was scared more than ever now. And I'm sure that my eyes showed it.

I raised my head a bit, and tried to sit up, but I only got so far. I dug my body back into the couch when I saw Kangor approaching. He was hurt, he was alive, but Hyde was nowhere to be seen. The thought of death scared me once again. I had been trying to deny it for years of my existence but it was futile to ignore what was part of every day life. It drove through my mind; racing here and there and touching every part of me I thought I'd crumble to a mass of bloody and broken limbs. A large lump in my throat prevented me from swallowing now and I nearly choked as I backed away into the surface of the couch, my eyes wide as saucers and my whole body trembling. Kangor stopped in his tracks and leant against the wall. He just stared at me, his bloody and sweating body shaking. But not as much as mine. I felt like a scared dog now. I probably looked like one as well. All Kangor had to do was look at me—he didn't even have to do that—and I knew right then what had become of Hyde.

I choked as I swallowed and sputtered blood. I felt the ache in my jaw and the broken tooth. I felt the coppery taste of my own blood and it leaked out of my mouth as I turned my head, looking away from Kangor after all this time.

He killed him, I thought to myself. He had killed him. I may have hated Hyde. I may have despised him far more than despise is worthy of being used. He may have hurt the person I loved. He may have _killed_ him. I wanted Hyde dead more than anything then and just a while ago. But now that it was done, I felt myself grow colder. I felt I would die of sheer fright and I couldn't help the sobs leaking from my throat. I couldn't stop my head burying into my arms. Tears, blood, death, pain, despair. The ugly world I lived in now was dying all too quickly. Everywhere I turned there was another suicide, another child raped, another woman ravaged, another affair, more pain here, more there; it racked my brain and I thought for sure I'd die of it all. Die of the delirium I was now in. I denied my life. I denied the pain my body had felt. I denied that I even ever existed for a small moment in my life.

And when I looked up again, my face a mixture of anguish, blood and salty tears, Kangor was right there, his eyes fixed on mine, and I was his for the time being.

"You can leave," he said in barely a whisper before wincing at the bother of his aching arm. "'E won't bother you…again." I watched as he slumped to the floor, doing his best to hold his head up. "Can't bother us…" he never looked away from me. He never broke eye contact. I was transfixed. He scared me. Everything scared me. The whole world was nothing but a frightful nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. "Ferret…"

"W-w…wha..?" I couldn't get the words out. My body was consumed by all emotions but my conscience. That was lost somewhere far, far away. I didn't know what would happen to me now. I could tell Kangor had no motion to kill me. He wouldn't hurt me. He'd never hurt me. Never. But I still couldn't trust him. Not after what had just happened. If he could kill Hyde, whom else would he bother to rid the world of? Fear was my strongest emotion I had left, and I was frantic.

"'e's gone," he whispered to me. "Gone, Ferret."

He spoke as if he had just gotten rid of the worst evil that could have tormented the world so harshly. He acted as if I was some lost boy of royal blood whom he had just saved from assassination. Don't ask where I got that one. I was delirious. I didn't know anything but fear and what I had read in The Sandman comics—or graphic novels as some call them. I didn't know what I felt anymore. I felt my body was mush and my mind was mashed.

He looked at me for a bit, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. And then, he blinked away, leaning his head back against the wall, finally taking his eyes off me. I looked down, unable to speak. I didn't expect him to say anything else, and I'm sure he thought the same for me.

Over the course of two days I had floated in and out of consciousness, and every time, Kangor was right there, either examining his wounds or mine or just lounging about. We were low on food and it wouldn't be long until we were totally out. When it came to stealing and such I was usually the one in getting whatever needed. I guess it was because I was the least conspicuous. After all the ground didn't shake when I stepped on it. It didn't even make a sound. I had the patience for the job and the swiftness required. But not at the moment. I was too tired, too sore to do anything. I could barely move without whimpering in pain. As for Kangor, well, I don't know exactly what was running through his mind. I know we never really talked much in the time we had known each other. Hyde didn't want too many friendly relations going on. It got to the point where he didn't even want me talking to any living thing. I know when we first started out, he was more lenient with me, but over the years he had gotten worse. Something had happened to him and he was taking it out on me.

Well, thanks to Kangor that factor was resolved.

But the food issue was still in our minds. I came around, probably in the middle of the night, and saw Kangor over me once again, one hip pressed against the arm of the couch. I looked up at him with tired brown eyes and he raised his hand. I flinched ever so slightly, the image of a fist to my jaw planted in my memories, afraid he was going to hit me. I don't know why I had thought such a thing. He hadn't hurt me at all in the time we knew each other. He never raised a fist to me. But the memories of several other fists my way was probably what caused my reaction. When I felt his fingers in my hair—and I practically screamed in alarm because of it—I felt my body melt into the cushions. I gave a contented sigh. I don't know what Kangor was doing, but it felt so good. I'm sure, even to this day, Kangor had no motive for what he had done, and I assure you, I will never let him forget this moment.

My body was tensed from all the strain put through it over the past few days, but once Kangor's cold fingers laced through my greasy brown hair I was in Heaven. And it was kind of funny too, because I never really believed in a Heaven. I was more of the Atheist kind of guy, but when you're a free spirit going to the school I went too, its more considered Satanism if anything. Ironic…sure. But either way, if there be a Heaven in my mind or somewhere out there, I was sure I was in it.

I was right. It is a state of mind. Just look at my surroundings. Dank, rank, dusty and dirty. Heaven only to some. The feeling in my body though…God but it felt so intense.

"Hungry, man," I was able to drawl out as I moved my head closer to Kangor's hip, feeling my forehead press against the denim of his jeans. To my surprise, he didn't move.

"I'm gonna get us food," he assured me. But it all felt so futile in my mind. I felt we'd never get food. I felt we'd never get heat. Winter was barely over and there was still snow on the ground and a chill in the air. I was freezing. My body was shivering; my hands ice cold and my flesh even paler. I feared we would die in this place. The eternal Hell in my mind.

But I didn't question him. I just lay my head against his thigh as his hand still roamed through my greasy locks, and I wondered forever then until I was out again why he had done it. Was it for the comfort of another person? Was it because he pitied me, and so thought it best to give me a warm feeling just for now? Was he playing with me? So many more questions raced and raced and I was out before I could finish them all.

Three days later, Kangor was nowhere to be seen. I was capable of finally walking—I'm sure I always was somewhat, but had been too broken spiritually to do it—and I was already looking for him. I searched all over the building; in places I hadn't ever been in before, put my nose to the ground and tried to find him. But where his scent landed me was to the doorway—an exit—to the outside, and that's where I stopped. There was no trail leading back in. My lip trembled, my jaw still aching. I had finally gotten the broken tooth out last night, but the bruises on the right side of my face were still visible. I was just glad it wasn't broken. I had no medical experience at all in my life. I was an art major student at Dakota University, not some doctor. I didn't even really know how to go about sprained ankles—I'd just say put pressure on it—or a stomachache even—I'd just told myself it'd go away eventually. As for bruised and slightly fractured ribs, a practically broken arm, out of place fingers and gashes in legs, I was completely lost.

I didn't want to go outside. For starters, it was cold. There was still snow on the ground, ice in the roads and it couldn't have been more than twenty degrees outside. Also, I had no way of keeping warm out there. All I had were baggy pants and an old worn black hoodie with torn sleeves, and I got cold pretty easy. Not to mention, the world was a scary place. Peopled died out there. I'd die out there. I already almost had on several occasions. And also again, meta-humans weren't exactly a welcome group. Even Static.

I slammed the door shut, leaning my back against it, safe inside. I couldn't believe he had just left like that, and without a word to me about it. Fear struck me once again. A while ago, when I had succeeded in waking up once again Kangor began to tell me of a place over near Ferris Row that Ebon and them had bunked in. He said they had heat. _Heat!_ He said they had food and that maybe it'd be a good idea to get over there as soon as possible.

I let my mind relax a bit. That's were Kangor had gone. He had gone there. I didn't know quite where "there" was, but that must have been where he had gone. Where else would he go? I mean, it was the middle of winter; he wouldn't go outside for nothing. He wouldn't leave me here either. He'd be back for me. He knew how bad a condition I was in. He'd be back. I hoped.

My stomach started to grumble. I hadn't eaten much in the past umpteen days and I was STARVING! But I remembered: no food. And thus, as I turned my head to the window at my side, peeking a glance to the gray and white world outside, I knew I'd eventually have to leave. I'd have to get food. I wasn't going to live off of rats. I'm no wussy vampire like Louis. Heck no.

I'm a worser wussy.

XXX

Is Ferret still an Atheist? Yes. Is he gay? No. Did he have a boyfriend? Yes he did. Did the boyfriend die? Well, apparently. Did he have a girlfriend? Yes, and it is still Tiffany.

I might continue this; I might not. I don't know. Depends on if I feel like getting shwasted or not in the next couple of days. I'll decide then.


	2. Chapter 2

Another long chapter, yes. Suffer. After a long night of getting shwasted and then breaking into my boyfriend's apartment and sleeping there for the night, I decided, I will continue this. The question is, do I continue it on after this? Hmm...

XXX

Ice

Chapter 2

XXX

Huddling up in a corner with my arms the only sense of comfort really wasn't going to help with my problems. And neither was lying on a couch weeping about my poor pathetic dumb luck life. Basically, the only thing I could do to help myself was go outside and find some source of food. Or, find the safest way to that hideout Kangor had told me about. I had waited a whole six hours. Well, I'm pretty sure it was close to six hours. Having no watch really sucked too. But like I said, I would have to go outside. I would have to actually go in public and go to Ferris Row and find that hideout of Ebon's. If I didn't take up the courage to do it now, I'd die. I'm not just saying that sarcastically. I would literally die. The thought scared me more than anything. I didn't want to die. At least not yet. I was still young. I had a good many, many years ahead of me if I could get back on my feet. I mean, in my family, twenty-two is a pretty sore age. It's like…being a baby almost. And that's exactly how I felt right now.

I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. I wanted to scream for my mom and dad—my mom I have never known so I don't know how much of a help actually calling for her was—and hope that they would find me. I just wanted to go home. I just wanted to tell my dad, "Dad I forgive you. Dad please forgive me. Dad please let me come home again. Please. Please. Please!" But reality struck me again and I realized that that would be a pretty futile effort. After all, living with my dad was total hell. It was like living with a guy you don't even know and who really doesn't even know you. I could run off and do whatever I wanted as a kid. I could steal, I could tag, I could do anything and my punishment was equivalent to a slap on the wrist. My dad really didn't give a s hit. He'd just sit there, playing his old electric guitar and tell me that you could only live life once. But in our case, living once really dragged.

I took in a breath and looked out the window again. The sun was out, and that provided me with a little comfort. It meant that there was a slight chance it would be just a little bit warmer outside. I smiled ever so slightly. Mainly because my jaw was still in a mass of pain and I was limited to small smirks. I'd been debating this for hours. If I stayed in, I'd starve. If I left, I'd most likely get shot down from Bang Baby haters. It's not like I did anything bad in the past year that was enough to put me in jail. But people wouldn't hesitate to put me in just because of what I was. Also, it'd be a big middle finger to me from those cops who hated me so when I was human. I was always running around, tagging up cop cars while they were inside subway getting their specials. They hated me. They hated me so much I don't even think there was a limit. Luckily, back then before my time as a meta-human, I had my friends. And you know what they say about a good friend. They'd be the ones sitting right there beside you in jail, laughing their asses off. And then my dad or one of my friend's friends or cousins or siblings would come and bail us out. Good times. Good times.

As I pulled on my black Element hoodie—I'd swiped it from a Zumiez store a few years back—and it'd gone through torture in the time that I'd had it, I caught a glimpse of the city outside. I shuddered as I saw one person, just one, standing against a brick wall, just down from the building I was in. He was just straight down there, straight down that alley way, and he was just standing there, his hands in the pockets of his army jacket and his shoulders hunched. I saw him shivering and the clouds that formed with every breath. Cold. Duh. Obviously. I didn't spend too much time looking at him. I wanted to get out of here. But I didn't want to be seen. So…of course I had to look at him. Actually, I just watched him until he would walk away. He would just walk away and I could leave. But he wasn't going anywhere. "Move dumbass,"I whispered sourly to myself, insulting the man down there. True I could have gone some other way out of the building, but that would include heavy lifting, something I am not capable of doing at the moment. There was something somewhat familiar about him. Something familiar about his curly brownish blonde hair that reached his shoulders. That alone made him look like Corey Taylor. And that reminded me of my old friend Derek Wilson. So called, ex-best friend. He looked exactly like Corey. Derek was somewhat as tall as this man. This guy though was too far away to determine much. I just knew he had long hair and that he was wearing very worn black Chucks. If the Chucks read Kill Me on the toes than that would be Derek down there. But from what I could see, nothing was written on them. And therefore, that couldn't have been my old best friend Derek.

Half an hour, that was long enough for him to stand there. But he wasn't moving. I thought I saw him glance back to the window but I'm sure he didn't see anything. Or I hoped he didn't see anything. I didn't see much of his face. But if he turned fully around and he had a tattoo around his eye, then I'd begin to really freak out. Derek had a tattoo around his right eye. It was the Neversoft sign. He had the spear going right on through his eye, well, not really. It just looked like a spear went right through his eye and the tendon that holds the eye in the head was wrapped around the end of the spear. I don't know where that would get Derek in life—he would make a perfect leader for his country. Fuck George Bush—but I was less than negative about anything with him. It's basically what kept us so tight.

And then it happened. Dude at the end of the way turned his head, as if looking for something, and I saw it. The Neversoft tattoo. Bright as day. My eyes went wide and I lost my breath. I turned away, my back against the wall as my head swarmed with memories of Derek. God fucking dammit. He better not have seen me. I'll flipping kill him. Not really. But God. Did it have to be Derek? Did it have to be him? Please.

Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe I just thought it up. Maybe I was seeing things.

I glanced back on through the dusty window and he was kicking at the ground. And he was facing me. If he looked up he would see me clearly…maybe. These windows were pretty dirty. It was Derek all right. Derek in all his pierced and tattooed and political glory. The best president of the United States. He was on his cell phone, talking to somebody. I wanted, so much to just run out there and tackle him to the ground and fucking hug him to death and plant a big ass kiss right on the lips. He never neglected those before, but…but I couldn't even move. I was frozen. Planted. Stuck. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't run out there and…kiss him. I could only watch. I watched as his eyebrows arched in agitation and I watched as he flicked his fingers, a habit he had always had since he quit smoking. I watched him lean up against the wall, a thoughtful expression upon his face, and then I saw him turn the corner and leave.

I could've sworn it was all a dream.

And that's what I convinced myself it was. Just a dream. It wasn't real. I did not see Derek Wilson standing right there in front of me just twenty feet away. I did not see any old time friend at all. I'm alone. I have no friends no more. Nothing.

But I just couldn't convince myself. I had just seen my old best friend Derek, and I felt like breaking down and crying. I would have too if the fact of a warm place with food and water didn't catch my thoughts right away. I had to get there. I had to leave here and go there and be safe. I could do this…I think. If all else failed, I'd just follow Kangor's scent. It'd probably make things a lot easier.

I pulled the door open and the cold air outside hit me. It stung my cheeks and my ears and I was immediately shivering. I squinted my eyes in the sunlight and looked around, searching for anyone and everyone. Someone who would see me. Not like I deserved to go to jail or did anything like I said, but, you can't trust anyone in this world. Not even your best friend.

I knew where Ferris Row was, no problem. But getting there was a problem. Alleyways didn't always connect, and they weren't always empty. Since it was only ten degrees outside, there weren't many people out to begin with. Good sign. The bad thing was, I was fucking freezing. Well, if I kept moving I could get my blood flowing and keep a little warm, ever so slightly.

Who was I kidding? I was going to die.

I raised my bruised muzzle to the air and, like all the other times, sniffed until I caught the scent that would hopefully lead me to a better place of residence.

XX

I'm not going to deny it, I'm scared shitless of Ebon. The guy always gave me the creeps, even before the Big Bang. It's not like I knew him too well then, but the garage he worked at was one of my favorite hangouts—when its owner wasn't around—and I'd always be talking to one of the many members of my circle of friends and Ebon would be sitting inside a car he had just finished, and he'd have his eyes closed. It was as if he were letting his mind flow freely with the loud pounds of metal and rock and punk music flowing throughout the garage. I caught him once doing it. I crept up next to the car, a sketchbook in my hand, and I went to work. It was creepy in its own sense to just be around the guy. And that's when it happened. His eyes opened slowly and they caught me. I stopped, mid sketch, and just stared back with wide brown eyes. I didn't expect him to do that. I hoped he wouldn't. I hoped I could get away with it. But I didn't. I felt so horrible. I just wanted to crawl in a hole right then. I thought for sure, from hearing about his reputation, that he'd storm out of the car and beat the shit out of me.

But he didn't. He just sat there; staring at me with brown eyes darker then mine they were almost black in color. He stared at me, I don't know how long for, but that was all he did. All he did and that's when I felt myself shake. He didn't do anything. He just sat there. Staring at me. My eyes were lost, not only in his own eyes, but his whole face. His mocha skin, his pierced ears, even his cornrows were absorbing me in. And then, Shiv stepped in. I didn't quite know him the best then either. But he had died his black hair purple and he always wore these impossible baggy clothes that looked like they would fall straight off his body at any moment. Then again, so did I. He was always as crazy then and a bit of a Jackass, and not the bad kind either. The ones on TV who dress up in devil costumes and run around the streets screaming "God Sucks" in a rather unenthusiastic way. The ones who put on panda suits and chase hot women. The ones who put on fairy costumes and put money in the parking meters. The Meter Fairy. That was one of my favorites.

Shiv dived through the open window of the car, startling both me and Ebon, who then was known as Tec. I remember Ebon screaming at him and Shiv just chuckling and acting like such child. God, I remember the days now. Tec, a leader of this Nines crew, and Shiv, a big shot drug dealer who held the most territory in the whole city.

Like I said though, Ebon is one creepy fucker. I once heard that he had this theory on oblivion and Kangor had told me that that was one gothic theory. Shiv said it was just explaining an intense orgasm. Either way Ebon freaked me out and I was not anticipating our encounter.

I must have been walking for, maybe only forty minutes, and the cold wind was really throwing me off with Kangor's scent. I knew where Ferris Row was, yes, and I knew that Kangor's scent so far had been leading me in the right direction, but with this cold weather and harsh wind, it was really hard to even concentrate. And it was cold. I knew I've said that several times so far, but it was really, really cold. The hood of my sweatshirt was hardly doing anything to protect my ears and my jaw was practically frozen shut it was almost impossible to talk, though I really didn't have anything to say to myself and it was only myself with me at the moment. Maybe I should make up some company or something. This was going to take a while after all.

Ok. I have created a new friend—right off the top of my head—named Damien Weinershnitzle from Germany.

Ok. Damien is getting really annoying because I cannot speak good enough German.

Unofficially, I have killed Damien due to annoyance and lack of interest.

You know, making up a make believe character from Germany—and whom I just might decide to design and make a life for the moment I get a pen and paper—takes me back to my high school days at Dakota Union High after I had gotten booted out of my other school that my dad had forced me to go to due to our many arguments and the fact that I crashed his favorite car into Lake Dakota. He got it back, I don't know why he had to send me to a prissy preppy full of Christians and one Jew school. Oh well, it was only for three quarters and I had succeeded in banging my late Christian boyfriend in the bathroom stalls. I'm going to Hell, I know that much. Oh yeah. I'm already in Hell. But like I said before up there, creating a made up German reminded me of Rouven Kovlovsky, the exchange student from Amsterdam. Rouven, when he first walked through those school doors, was the picture perfect angel of my heaven. His blonde hair was streaked with black and spiked up high and proud. His green eyes were hidden behind pitch black contact lenses and he had his lip pierced three times, each eyebrow twice, his tongue, his ears, and even one of his cheeks. His face was caked with makeup, so black and so deathly looking. A natural pale complexion held great advantages for that. He wore a long beautiful leather trench coat, a shirt that read something I never found out in German, chained pants and heavy nearly knee high boots that were covered in latches and laces. He was beautiful. Perfect. And he was an asshole.

He had turned Dakota High upside down in a matter of nine months. Well, more like, six and a half. He had to go back to his home and take some test so he could get into a college over there. But here, he pulled so many pranks and upset so many people it was hysterical. I'd laugh so hard from him I'd cry. He was the ultimate pest. I couldn't compete. And he had such a way with the ladies. Not just the ladies. The young lads as well. (Dudes, saying lads feels so weird. But that's what he referred to them by.). We immediately became fast friends.

God, but that was such a good year with him. And what made it all better was when he came back during our senior year. It was graduation and he made it all worth while. I had pulled a prank on our principle and could not graduate with the rest of the seniors, but they never said anything about me not coming anyways. And so I did, along with Rouven and also, my own little click which consisted of a fucked up gothic dude Brandon Benson who was a sadist, our political leader Derek Wilson and his younger step brother Regi Baxter, and of course, my girlfriend Tiffany Stone. And was that some party. You should have seen the graduation parties everyone had afterwards. So many to count. So many young girls and boys to count and my girlfriend didn't seem to give a shit. The best part was, Rouven had smuggled us alcohol all the way from Amsterdam. We couldn't thank him any more.

The thought of Rouven, the thought of my days in high school before I became a starving homeless freak, they just brought a small bit of happiness back into my life. The memories of me and my friends tagging up the stuck up Dakota Hills residents, of me and Derek going to homecoming together Junior year as a joke because of our FACE class assignment: a middle class gay couple with two kids. We carried that all the way to when we stopped talking.

I guess that was my fault. Us not talking and all. I mean, I'm the one who avoided him. Then again, I pretty much avoided everyone. So much had happened in my life. Tiffany, the girl of my dreams, the girl who made everything all better after Justin McFarland, my sweet, angelic late Christian boyfriend who I still cry for every night. She died.

Am I destined to be alone forever? For the rest of my life? Who hates me so much? Why couldn't I have Justin? Why couldn't I have Tiffany? Why can't I have anyone? I'm stuck with the whores at all the clubs and back alleys. I'm stuck alone. All I had left was Kangor, and now he's gone too.

His scent is getting faint. All I smell is the cold, blustery air. There's no snow falling, but there's plenty on the ground and it's collecting on the legs of my pants and its freezing them. I'm cold as all hell. I think the wound in my leg reopened, and if so, than it's not going to look pretty. My ribs are acting up again and it's a good thing I can't feel my jaw anymore because that's probably acting up too. I think it's time I find a place to sit down. I can't travel in this weather. I need to find a nice, warm place to rest. That's all. All I see in sight is a diner. I'm lucky the few people who were out on the streets didn't notice me, or at least enough to care, because no way in hell was I going to stay out here. I was desperate.

I should have maybe considered a few things before rushing into that diner. Things like signs that might have read "No Meta-Humans" or something similar. Things like the mutant haters inside who would probably shoot an obvious Bang Baby like myself. Things like the owners inside who would probably shoot and obvious Bang Baby like myself. But when you're a desperate starving former nuisance like me, you tend to overlook things like that. You also tend to overlook the truck that almost hit you because you're a dumbass who doesn't look before you cross the street. My bad.

Warmth. It hit me, not like the cold did when I first felt it, not like a racing semi from a headache, but like that touch of a mother's hand I have never experienced before in my life. I sure hope this is what a mother's hand feels like. As for smells, those also hit me, and not in the same loving way. First smell: crappy diner cheeseburgers. Second smell: Everything else that ranged from thick gravy to a drunk that needs to shower to a truck driver that needs to lay off the beans. There's also the smell of cigarette smoke that I catch from the man to my right, whose quietly chewing away at his generic french-fries while his fag rests in an ashtray. It reminded me of Derek and how he used to be such a heavy smoker.

To me left is a sweet little couple chatting over hot chocolate. That smelled so great right about now. Hot chocolate. Hadn't had that since I was a kid. Everything during and after high school was booze. As for the sweet little couple themselves, one man reeked of too much cologne and the other smelled sweet, like candy canes…or something Christmassy. The brunette, the one with too much cologne, was laying his hand over the blonde's own hand. The blonde reminded me of Justin in so many ways. Blonde hair, blue eyes, lithe frame, perfect smooth pale skin. I almost thought it was at first, but then he smiled at his boyfriend, and I knew, by that smile, that wasn't Justin in any form or way. Just another gay kid with a boyfriend who would spoil him to death now, and then bash him later and run off with some dancer from a club.

Anyways…

Thank you Corey Taylor for not letting the occupants of the diner recognize me right away. _I did nothing wrong, they can't do anything to me._ I kept repeating this in my head over and over until I realized that I had been standing at the door for well over a minute, and that was long enough to raise a head from one of the waitresses who had nothing better to do but read a magazine at a table while on her lunch break. She was looking up at me with curious brown eyes, as if she were studying me. I tried to dig myself into my own body again, but it seemed hopeless. I turned away, but realized that wasn't going to do any good, and after finding that there was really no place to run but back outside—and that is something I was not planning to do for a while again—I looked, fearfully, towards her. I closed my eyes, only once to catch my mind so as to communicate, but that gave her plenty of time to come right up to me.

I opened my eyes to be greeted by the fiery depths of her own brown eyes and I flinched and found myself against the wall once again. This time, the rest of the people started to take notice. I was shivering again. Damn me for being so scared of people.

I heard her voice, like a bell, and yet like a chick from the ghetto, ring in my ear. "Can I help you with sum?" she asked, her voice slipping ever so beautifully through her panted glittery lips.

I stammered. I couldn't form words, and I couldn't look at her. I was the freak. She should be calling the police on me. She shouldn't be asking me if she can help me. She could help me. She could give me food and a warm place to stay until the cold died down. She could take off her clothes…ok, I'm getting way out of my mind at the moment right now. I'm supposed to be emotionally dieing right now, not thinking of this waitress naked. Bad thought. Bad thought. Chicks hate that. Guys dig that. God fucking dammit, what happened to my edge.

"You want food?" she asked, sounding unpleasant to my ears.

I knew I had no money, but I also knew that if I didn't get food I'd die. I'd pull the whole dine and dash. I'd done that tons of times. When me and my friends went to Amsterdam to visit Rouven and we had no way of paying, we'd always resort to the customary dine and dash method.

So, I just nodded my head slowly. I was quick. I could do this. It was cold outside. That was a problem.

I let her lead me to the table she was sitting at and she ordered me a meal before I could even sit down. Either she could read my mind, or she guessed, or she had one of those built in radar things that all mothers have that helps them indicate whether their precious little babies are ok or not. Either way, I didn't really care. All I know was, I was about to have food, and I was grateful.

"Thanks," I mumble, my jaw still feeling stiff and sore. I look down at my leg to see that no blood had leaked too badly. So I was safe there. But man, did it ever hurt.

"No problem," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders as she sat back down and closed her _Cosmopolitan_. "The least I could do. After all, you look pretty beat."

Yup, she was a mother in the making.

I just looked down. I could barely keep my eyes open as I cradled my sore arm against me, still shivering slightly. "F-fucking c-c-cold," I spurted out with a drop of blood. I quickly covered that up though with my arm.

"Yeah. I know. Why the fuck they gotta make us work in this weather is beyond me. Not like many people out. All those in here are a bunch of losers. No offense Daddy," she said as she nodded towards a potbellied man reading a paper in one of the booths. The man smirked back at her before going back to his paper. "And those two only in here cuz it's their Thursday thing to do." She nodded to the couple sitting over by the door, staring dreamily into each other's eyes. "No matter how cold it gets. But why are you out?" She looked over at me with raised eyebrows.

My eyes widened as I looked at her, my bottom lip still trembling. I didn't do anything wrong, so there is no reason to be thrown in jail. I was safe. I saw no signs that limited meta-humans. Then again, I wasn't really looking. But I think I would have seen one if I were to pass one. Hey, leave it to a meta-human, right?

"You prolly only lookin' for food right?" she asked as she leant back in her chair, redoing her pony tail. I wasn't kidding above there. I really wouldn't have minded seeing this girl naked. She was a fine looker. A beauty, with mocha skin and glistening lips and long straight black hair.

I only nodded. Only three words said and I was already tired.

"Yeah, must not be too pleasant for you huh? I mean, not like you one of them bad guys or whatever, but like, it's the whole discrimination thing against all ya'll. It's really low man. People just can't do that just cuz some innocent bystanders got changed up a little bit, ya know? I mean, sounds really cruel, what they do to you and all." She paused for a moment, before starting again. "What do they do to you anyway?"

I swore, tears would have swelled in my eyes if I weren't so cold. They probably did, but my face was still too slightly numb for me to have noticed. I wanted to tell her what they did to me. I wanted to tell her the pain and rejection I went through. I wanted to tell her that not only where the humans cruel and tied you up with a muzzle around your face, but so were other Bang Babies who hated themselves so much, or were jealous or just plain mad or nothing at all. I wanted to tell her so much. She seemed so curious about me. About "us". But I just couldn't form the words. And luckily, I didn't have to. Food came. I could smell the thick, greasy cheeseburger and did it ever feel inviting. And all I could do was stare at it. The waitress who was talking to me—by what I read on her nametag, she was called Tyra—looked at me with an expectant face. "Well. Aren't you gonna eat it?" she asked.

I shook myself from my stupor only to face the poor facts. "Got no money," I said in almost a whisper.

"Hey," she said reassuringly. "It's on the house. Skinny thing like you needs to eat."

I swallowed, my heart racing, my mind racing, my mouth opening to taste that sweet burger before me. Hesitantly I clamped one sore hand around the burger. This was too good to be true. I don't even remember eating. I remember swallowing the last bite and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand while Tyra gave me not one, but two raised eyebrows over two saucer wide eyes. I chewed on a thumbnail—or would I call it a thumbclaw—worried. I'd just embarrassed myself again haven't I? "Damn boy, when was the last time you ate?" she asked me.

I swallowed, that cheeseburgery taste ever present in my mouth. Did she really need to know? "I, I had a Hershey bar like, two days ago," I told her, glancing down to the floor, my fingers fiddling with the rip in my jeans.

I swear, she almost gasped. Her expression was a mixture of emotions like rage, pity, and something else I couldn't determine. And then, she said something even more unexpected. "Oh you poor thing, what the hell they doing to you? What they won't let you into a Kwik Trip or sum?" I just shook my head, my clawed fingers gripping the edge of the table. I think one of my thumbs found a piece of leftover gum. A shame I still felt frozen. "Yo, Val," she shouted to the other waitress—a Barbie doll looking thing—behind the bar who was chatting away on her cell phone. She looked up slightly, listening to the other line. "Bring over some of that chicken soup."

I felt so horrible. Not only was I taking free food, but also I was letting this girl pay for it all. Not that I would have denied this moment in my human years, but when you are a literally helpless being with the only possessions being the clothes on your back, you tend to look at the world a little differently. I felt cruel. It's not like I was making her do this. But I just couldn't fight the free food calling my name. I glanced over at the couple in the corner, watching them sip their hot chocolate and smile and chuckle and link fingers. So many memories...

"Yo," I heard Tyra say. "Sum wrong?"

I shook my head, pulling my hood down. My hair had gotten longer over the years. It nearly reached my shoulders by now. "Why are you doing this?" I asked her, my eyebrows furrowing together. I remember one of them used to be pierced until that got pulled out in a fight. "Being so nice?"

"You ain't the only meta-human round here," she stated as she leant forward. "You see that boy Darry in the corner over there? The one with the blonde hair?" She pointed to the blonde from the couple. "He's one of you, you know?"

I gave her a questioning look.

She smirked. "Let's just say that when he cries, it rains."

Still, I felt out of place. At least Darry looked normal. I had something similar to a horses face. Not to mention the claws and the fact that I could run on all fours. But I had learned, a mutant's a mutant, no matter how you look at it. "His hubby know?" I asked, still eying the two.

Tyra shook her head slowly. "Nah. He's one of them hate 'em all people. Darry's scared shitless to tell him. But one of these days, Greg's gonna catch on, and then I'm gonna be feelin' bad for Sunshine." She noticed my curios look and answered my unspoken question. "It's what I've always called Darry. I mean, look at his hair, it's so, ya know, sunny. Not to mention his personality." I never wanted to be reminded of Justin, I never wanted to be reminded of Tiffany, but this boy even sounded like Justin. I heard him laugh, and it sounded just like Justin. I heard him speak and it sounded just like Justin. I saw his eyes glance over at me and I swear, for a moment, he was Justin. But I knew he wasn't. I was there when it happened, when Justin…

I looked down at the untouched soup and I no longer felt hungry. I felt lonely. More now than ever. With this Justin clone in the same room with me, I felt like I was going to puke. I wanted to. I wanted to empty myself, take myself back to that dark corner in the room and huddle up there, be alone and never bothered. I should have waited for Kangor. He'd probably just gone out to get some essentials…for two days. He's probably back there right now, wondering where I had wandered off to. I needed to leave.

It didn't take me more than five seconds to make my decision. "Hey, where you going?" Tyra said as I rose from the table. "Don't tell me you ain't hungry."

"I'm not hungry," I said in my smartass tone, the tone I hadn't used in a long time. But it was true. I was no longer hungry. I'm sure physically I was, but I just didn't have the nerve to eat. My mind was too full off memories of Justin.

"Well wait a minute." Tyra hurried after me and stopped me at the door. "Here." She handed me a small slip of paper ripped from the notepad she used for orders. Scrawled on it, was a phone number. "In case you need somebody…or food," she said with a smirk. "I'm only a phone call away."

I stared down at the number in my hand, wondering what kind of possessed demon she was, telling me I could call her. What the hell was wrong with this picture? Some random chick just feeds me and then gives me her number. And I didn't even fuck her yet. What the heck?

Oh well. I wasn't going to look into it. I just gave her one last look—whether it was my annoyed look or my upset look or my thankful look I don't know—and I was back out in the cold. Once again, it hit me, hard. I wanted to quick rush back into that diner, but I couldn't, not with that girl there, and not with that blonde boy who was too much like Justin. And then I felt it, the tug at my gut, the stinging feeling in my throat, and I had just gotten around the corner of the building before the only food I had eaten in the past two days came up.

The taste lingered. My only food, and it was gone. Such a horrible taste was left. I'd be smelling that for days now.

I shook my head, running my hand through my hair before pulling my hood back up and setting off in the direction I had been going before. Justin lingered in my mind, more now than ever. Sometimes, I wish I could just go back. I could have helped him then.

XXX

Was that torture? Did you just read through that whole thing? I would have made it shorter, but then it would have felt out of place. I'll try to make it shorter if I decide to adda third chapter to this.


	3. Chapter 3

You know…ever since I made Shiv a rather big successful drug runner, I couldn't get it out of my head, that he'd buy his deceased uncle's old crack house and make it into a beautiful, five star hotel…or more. Unfortunately, it's not finished.

XXX

Ice

Chapter 3

XXX

_October 2000_

_Oh the joys a new millennium can bring, Luke thought to himself as he waited at the bus stop. No license—it had been taken away—no car—he had gotten grounded—and he was pissed. His school was too far away to walk to get there on time, so he was forced to ride the bus. What friends did he have to give him a ride? Oh let's count the many shall we? Um…none. _

_None. _

_His once dark brown hair was dyed pitch black. The sides were buzzed down, and two long strands hung down near each temple, each strand nearly reaching his chin. The middle was gelled up in a sort of messy Mohawk. Dark eyeliner ran around his deep brown eyes. His lip was pierced once, and there was hoop in his right eyebrow. He was dressed in a pair of tight black pants with straps and metal loops hanging off of them, heavy boots, and a near see-through long-sleeved black shirt with a faded skull on the front. At the end of each sleeve, his thumb poked out of small holes he had created. This new school better not have some code against his attire. "Fuckin' preppy bitch school," Luke muttered to himself as he brought a cigarette to his lips. He'd been smoking since about a year ago, and hadn't really planned on quitting. He never really planned on wearing this outfit the second time in two weeks either. But it was his first day in a new school and all and he really didn't give a shit. First impressions after all. _

_His father had transferred him to a new school, as punishment for wrecking his new car. Luke had just shrugged it off. What school was worse than his last one? _

_Luke, or Ferret, as they had called him since he was just a kid (but no one here seemed to give a shit), had just gotten into the "gothic" style not long ago, observing that wearing black is a good way to express one's self. Apparently, so is wearing dark eyeliner and metal on your pants. But he really didn't give a fuck. He'd stopped caring years ago. _

_Luke sighed, lolling his head back and trying to succeed in blowing out a smoke ring, in which, he did not. He'd been trying since he took up this habit, but so far, nothing. It was beginning to annoy him. Maybe it was only his dad that could do it. I get his looks, but I don't get his smoking talent, go figure. He shrugged back the matter as he rolled his shoulders, feeling the familiar cracking as always. His shoulders, along with his back, were a bit on the funky side. For some reason, no matter which way he turned or bent, he just couldn't crack them right. It was really starting to annoy him. _

_He wasn't always the hateful looking gothic boy he was now. Luke really wasn't all that hateful either, but apparently, no one wanted to stick around to learn that. Luke was a pretty laid back guy. He never really started any fights, tried to stay out of them, and basically, just wanted to have fun with life. As for skateboarding, his passion, well…he'd been on hold with that for quite a while now. _

_Nothing. That's all he had thought of himself as of late. Since he moved to this dank, ragged ass and gang-infested city, he'd been ridiculed, taunted, and even threatened. He'd moved here with his dad once the man heard of his daughter, also, Luke's little sister when he was what? Ten? About a year after Amy was born, they had left Orange_ _County for this fucked up city. Fucked up was right. Nothing but hate and dishonor everywhere you turned. Then again, not like Luke knew anything else. He hardly remembered what California was like, what friends he had. He'd gone back a couple times, here and there, but…it just felt like California had disappeared entirely from his heart; ocean waves and all. He hadn't even been surfing in a while. He just seemed to give up on everything he was good at. Except maybe his guitar. He still strummed on that thing. But…he didn't know. Maybe it was just the fact that he was isolated here, here with this smoggy polluted air and lack of freedom. He needed release. He needed somewhere to run to. Or at least someone; but so far, the only solace he gained was in the company of one of his father's better employees; a local Jamaican hit-man by the name of Duncan Najeeb who he rarely ever saw. Maybe only a few times a month. And it was only a few hours those few times, and he got few reactions from the other man. _

_Duncan was a pretty nonchalant guy; pretty cold and uncaring.. Luke though, actually found comfort in the guy's company. Every once in a while, he'd hunt down the stoic Jamaican and round up a bit of a conversation; though it was usually Luke doing the talking and Duncan just listening, it felt good to have someone listen, even if they acted like they didn't give a fuck. For some reason, he'd found a connection with the man. That is, until everyone found out about Luke's dad and his many secrets and had started to call Luke a half-breed freak. _

_Man, that sucked the most. And what sucked even more was when Luke had gotten pissed off, drunk, and even more pissed off one night and ended up getting a tattoo on his back. The man who gave it to him told him it was the sign of the Devil, and the only thing Luke remembered saying was "Fuckin' sweet. Just my style." _

_The bus arrived. "Finally," Luke muttered as he grabbed his ruddy black backpack off the ground by his feet and hefted it over his shoulder, flicking his spent cigarette away. As he entered the bus and paid the fee—damn city buses, he thought—he was greeted, well more like, struck with many a glaring eye. It looked like half the bus held an array of Christian_ _School students. "Just perfect," he thought. "More people to bitch about."_

_He didn't respond to their glaring though. Doing that would only make them believe that they were above him. But he was far more above than they could ever dream. He didn't care. And he didn't fight. He was against violence. It solved nothing. _

_As he moved towards an unoccupied seat, not quite in the back, but more towards the middle, also surrounded by other passengers, he noticed the glaring increasing. He wasn't sure if these people were glaring because he looked like he did, or because they knew his dad was a drug lord. Well, of course his look was apart of it. But once again, he shoved the matter aside and took a seat. He didn't budge though. Didn't say anything. He just sat there, taking the blow. _

_The bus was off. _

_XXX_

I didn't even recognize him until his scent hit me. It was a mixture of hair gel of three different brands—one for sure was Ice—and cigarette smoke, all covered over with a spray of AXE. I quickly stopped in my tracks, my brown hair falling in my eyes as the wind picked up, carrying his scent heavier towards me. He didn't even move, and neither did I. I was struck with shock. I thought he was dead. It was in the papers. This kid was on the front page. He got hit by a flipping bus and flung off a bridge. He was dead. I shook my head, stepping back a bit. This was no enemy of mine from way back when. If anything, he was a random fuck. But he wasn't just that when the memory came back.

His green eyes were tired and staring aimlessly at the snowy ground, but when he looked up at me, he did it with hate. For some reason he hated me. I don't know what I did to him but…surely this wasn't the dead boy right? Surely this wasn't my one night fuck that night at that party last year was it? No. He was dead. This boy couldn't be. Maybe he had a twin.

I shook my head, shutting my eyes for a few moments trying to convince myself that this boy, whose name had suddenly slipped my mind, was not real. That it was just a projection of my imagination. That the drugs forced down my throat by nurses at the mental institution were backfiring. When I opened my eyes, he was gone.

I gave a sigh of relief. I was just crazy. That was all. A shudder ran through my body before my saneness settled back in and I limped off down the sidewalk, trying to stay on track and on my feet.

No sooner had I started walking again, I found myself sprawled on the snowy ground, my head throbbing, my jaw even more. Great. Had I broken that too? First the fingers, now my jaw…God hates me. That's all there is to it. Oh yeah, that's right. I don't believe in God. Oh well. I've blamed enough stuff on Corey Taylor and besides, more people would believe me if I mentioned God, after all, he's the bozo that put us here right? No…it was Santa, what am I talking about. …yes, that was sarcasm. Very stupid sarcasm that rambles out of my head whenever I lose myself in the world, or in my own mind. At the moment, lying there on the ground, the snow seeping into the holes of my jeans and under my sweatshirt, I was very out of myself, the pain my main concern.

However long I was lying there for, I have no idea. It felt like hours, but I'm sure it was merely minutes. After all, a few hours in fifteen-degree weather covered in snow and ice would pretty much assure my demise…I think. I don't know. I never tried death by cold. I'll have to put that on my to-do-list.

Like I said though, I don't know when I finally came around and gotten enough strength to push the pain away, but when I did, he was there, hovering over me, that hateful glare in his eyes. He wanted to kill me, I could feel it. He wanted to get rid of me for reasons unknown to myself. And all I could do was stare at him.

I stared at him for the longest time, wincing in my agony. My back had been fucked up enough the way it was, did he really have to go and do that? I mean, honestly. Whatever happened to a simple 'hello,'? His glare hardened and before I knew it, the toe of his shoe connected with the cracked ribs of my torso and I couldn't even breathe. I was struggling now, struggling to keep my body safe and away from him. My fingers caught his ankle and I brought him down with a quick swipe to his leg, right on through the denim of his jeans and deep into his flesh. The moment he feel I quickly ran, or, …something similar. The gash in my leg made the entire limb feel thrashed, my injured arm I held tightly to my chest and held at my ribs at the same time. I didn't even look back to see if he was following me. Of course he was. He was mad at me. I apparently did something very bad to him…or something like that…did I?

But I do know I did him, and I do know that right after that, he had been reported dead and I had, for some reason, been a suspect for murder. Stupid cops. They think they're so special just because they arrest a Harrison. No, I didn't murder him. Why would I? I'm anti-violent. I'm not going to encourage Bush. That would be far worse than just wrong.

I was amazed at how much distance I was putting between us. I was also amazed at how fast I was doing it. I was like, a force of nature or something, an extreme force. I was flying. I was…

Falling again. Face first into the snow. The boy was on my back, his heel digging into the back of my neck. I was shivering, now more for his hate and inflicts upon me than the cold. I was scared. I didn't know if I would die or not, but I really didn't want to find out if he was capable of killing me. I just wanted…I just wanted to go home.

As he stared at me, pushing his heel harder onto my neck, I could feel the world leaving me once again. I know, I'm losing consciousness _again_ but what can you do? Really? I didn't really have the strength anymore to push off. The only strength I had left was my mind, and since I was no telepath or psychoplocto person—if that is really a word—it was really no use for me.

XXX

_On the bus, people ignored him, tried their best not to acknowledge him as a person. Luke didn't care. He did his best to ignore them. _

_He figured since it was early in the day, the bus wouldn't stop anywhere near his designated school for a while. So, he kicked up his feet on a nearby seat, crossed his arms, and hung his head, intent on getting a bit more sleep than he was allowed this morning. _

_It must have been ten minutes that this bus took off that he was awoken. A young teen had gotten upon the bus and was poking him in the shoulder. "Hey," he said lowly as he tried to wake him. "Excuse me." Luke groaned as he gave into the boy's words. He looked up at him, his eyes a little unfocused, his jaw a bit slack. At the sight of the boy above him, his jaw went from slack, to fallen on the ground. This boy was gorgeous. He had short, pale blonde hair, startling blue eyes, a pale complexion. He was wearing the same clothes as the Christian students on the bus, and right away, Luke thought for sure he would hate him…and then he remembered, this boy had been polite and quiet. Plus, he was down right beautiful, and Luke had to refrain himself from drooling. "'Scuse me?" the boy said again. Not only was his face angelic, but so was his voice. "Could you please move your feet?" he asked politely, gesturing towards Luke's propped up booted feet. _

_"Oh uh," he started, having to force himself to look away from the angelic boy before him in order to answer, though turning away was bad enough for him. "Sure thing." He drug his feet off of the seat. He did his best to keep a straight face and not stare at this beautiful being before him. He looked around, noticing how many more people had climbed aboard the bus in his slumber. _

_"Shit." It was the blonde haired angel who said this. Luke hadn't taken him to be so vulgar. He saw as the boy had dropped something and was bending over to pick it up. Luke tried to remain cool and not stare at that marvelous backside that was staring him right in the face. The boy gave a sigh as he took a seat next to Luke. "I like your hair." _

_Luke hadn't been paying attention. Why hadn't he been paying attention to what he was saying? Was he really that beautiful? "What?" He asked, focusing on the angelic face of the boy. _

_"Your hair," he said, smiling. That smile. Luke hadn't seen any like it before in his life. "I like it. It's cool." Luke swallowed. Was he just complimenting on his hair. This good little boy looking kid was complimenting the gothic badass on his hair? What was the world coming to? Was someone trying to play him? "I wish my parents would let me do something like that. They're like so against the whole gothic thing. They say it's like, demonic or something. You're not demonic are you?" _

_Luke shook his head. "Not that I know of." _

_"Hm. Like you even need to be gothic to be Atheist even. I'm not an Atheist, but my friend is, and she's going to the same school as I am and she's not gothic or anything. My parents hate her and the teachers say she's going to hell if we don't save her or anything but, I say, they can all fuck off, if she wants to be Atheist let her be. I mean, come on. Even my parents think that I'm becoming one just because I'm questioning the bible and they caught me eyeballing this guy, who by the way was super hot, and now they're trying to send me to some home where I can be "saved" and all that. They especially hated when I kept asking these questions to the priest like, if incest is a sin, then what about Adam and Eve's grandchildren? You know? You ever think of that?" _

_Luke wasn't listening to what he was saying. He was more intent on watching those beautiful lips move. This boy was perfect. He had to know his name. But he couldn't even get a word out. He wouldn't stop talking. _

_"My name's Justin by the way." Well that was easy. "What's yours?" _

_"Uh, Luke," he said quietly. "But my friends call me Ferret. Or at least they would if I had any friends here." _

_"Well, Ferret, I like your hair, and your clothes. And your boots," he looked down at Luke's large combat boots. "Uh, if you're really that tired, you can put them back up." _

_"What, on your lap?" Luke was not one to ruin a perfect boy's body. If he were to oblige to his invitation, that would mean dirtying his khaki pants with the worn knees, leaving marks and possibly bruises on his legs. _

_"I don't mind," Justin said with a smile. Luke didn't budge. "I know you want to." Luke's eyebrows knit together in confusion. Ever so slowly, he shook his head. _

_"I'm fine." He managed it with a smirk. _

_"Ok." Justin was so cool with everything. It only took twenty seconds for Justin to begin talking again. "I really like your pants." _

_"Thanks." _

_"They're so awesome." He took a small red strap into his delicate hands and began to twirl it around. "I wish I could have pants like these." _

_"What's stopping you?" Luke wasn't minding at all that this complete stranger was brushing his pale fingers across his knee, picking up yet another strap, fiddling with a zipper. _

_"My parents," Justin said with a smile. "They're such, I don't know what to call them. Bible humpers." _

_"So I take it they don't even know you're gay?" Luke asked, having no difficulty at all in seeing this young man's sexuality. _

_"Well, if it took you this long to figure it out, then they really are as stupid as they talk. But it got real close when they saw me flirting with that guy. I just told them he was from Germany and that's what they did. Can you believe they actually fell for it?" He let the straps fall before bringing his fingers to traces over a set of black jelly bands that wound around Luke's wrist. Luke didn't stop him. Instead, he watched as those oh so beautiful hands plucked at each band before tracing the fabric of his shirt, tugging on a loose thread. Luke swallowed the rather large lump in his throat, watching Justin…what was he doing? Inspecting him? Well, he said he loved the way he dressed. And judging by how open he was about him propping his feet on his lap, it didn't surprise Luke as much as it would have that he was tracing his fingertips over the scabs on his knuckles. "What happened?" he asked, rubbing at his knuckles, bringing his blue eyes to meet the timid brown orbs of Luke's. _

_Luke frowned. "Me and my dad got in a fight, again," he said, a sudden distaste in his words. "I ended up punching a wall." _

_"Ouch," Justin said, furrowing his eyebrows while he continued to run his fingers over Luke's own, gently caressing the knuckles with the wounds of dry blood covering over. "I'm sorry." _

_"What for? You didn't do anything." Luke's eyes were focused completely on Justin's hands as they held his right hand in both. "Don't say sorry for something you're not sorry for."_

_Justin shrugged. "You have long fingers." _

_"I know." Now what was Justin getting at? _

_"You know what they say about guys with long fingers." Justin said with a smile, his blue eyes resting on Luke. _

_Luke brought his eyes to meet him, his own wolfish smirk playing across his face. No sooner had he brought his head up to look at Justin, his gaze went back down to the young boy's hands holding his own. His fingers were slack in Justin's soft grip. With no more hesitation, he brought his hand to rest over Justin's. "You have soft hands," he pointed out. "Beautiful." He hadn't even noticed he had said the word, and by the time he had realized it, it was too late to take it back. He looked up, half scared, at Justin's face. Only a tint of red covered Justin's pale cheeks as his lips formed a nervous smile, his gaze cast away as his free hand pulled a strand of blonde hair back behind his ear. It was too short to stay back though, and came to rest at his cheek again. _

_"Can I, uh," Justin started to stammer. "Touch your hair?" _

_Luke didn't answer. He just bent his head, letting himself belong to Justin right there. Hesitantly, Justin brought his hand up to Luke's hair, curling his fingers a bit before going in. And once his fingers were laced within Luke's black hair, a rather large smile crossed his features and Luke noticed. "You like it?" He asked. _

_"It's awesome," Justin responded absent-mindedly. _

_"I was thinking of cutting it." _

_"Oh, don't." Justin's fingers began to roam over every inch of hair, through Luke's scalp, across the bristly hairs on the sides of his head, and then sliding down the long locks hanging from his temples. He pulled them through his fingers ever so softly, feeling the softness, loving the slightly nervous reaction that was coming from Luke. At least he wasn't the only one being nervous. "I really, really like your hair." _

_"Thanks," Luke said with a smile. Before he could react though, Justin's fingers had went from feeling the hair on his head, to roaming over his eyebrows, tracing the thin lines of black, and fingering the silver spike in one. Luke didn't move though. He wanted to make this boy happy. Not to mention, he loved the reaction they were getting from the many other passengers on the bus. This made him smirk. He felt Justin's fingers going down his cheeks, tracing his jaw line, and then brushing over the lip ring. He leant in close to Justin's ear. "I think we have an audience," he whispered in a barely audible tone. Justin only had to glance over once to see the faces of his fellow students staring at them with disgust. This made him giggle before turning his head back, only to have it land with Luke's cheek. Luke though, only smiled. "Play along, ok? I do this with my friend Derek all the time." He started to run his hand down Justin's chest. _

_"Mm. I thought you didn't have any friends," Justin whispered. _

_"Well I have one." And with that, he started to burry his face in Justin's neck, giving small kisses that made Justin smile. Justin, being the cooperative sport, started to play with Luke's moves. He took the hand that was covering Luke's hand and brought it to his head, where he ran his fingers through his hair again as Luke rubbed his hand over Justin's thigh. Justin sighed before Luke brought their foreheads together. His chocolate brown eyes looked longingly into Justin's brilliant blue ones. Justin couldn't tell whether or not Luke was actually "playing along" anymore, or if he really was feeling the same way that Justin was feeling at that very moment. Justin glanced over to see the faces that were once glaring, now filled with disgust, and he smiled as Luke brought a kiss to his cheek. Justin just had to keep going. Especially once he heard the words 'damn faggots' being uttered among the faces. He turned his body around and raised himself up, seating himself atop Luke's lap. Luke, who was taken by sudden surprise, started to pull back. _

_"Don't," Justin whispered as he pulled Luke's head back. "The show must go on. And our stop for the next bus is a long ways away." _

_"Depending on if we both go to the same school that is," Luke whispered back as Justin took hold of his shoulders. _

_"You go to Canton high?" Justin asked as he brought a kiss to Luke's temple. _

_"No…some other school. Hear it's full of preps." _

_Justin raised an eyebrow. "The Catholic school?" _

_Luke shook his head. "No somethin' else." _

_"Well, the only other school around here is the one I go to. It's a Christian school…" _

_Justin didn't need to explain any further. Luke's blank stare was enough to tell him what was up. Luke was not happy at all. _

_"That asshole," he muttered, shaking his head, his fingers tightened in the fabric of Justin's shirt. "I'll fucking kill him. Sending me to a religious school is far beyond wrong and suicidal punishments for wrecking his car." _

_"Punishment?" Justin asked, a bit taken aback by Luke's sudden anger flash. _

_"I ran his car into a the lake, and he decided to transfer me to another school, one a little closer to home. He never said it was a fucking Christian School! That's bull." _

_"Well, it's not like they'll let you in looking like that." _

_"Of course they will. I'll go along with Dad's little plot, and I will turn that school upside down. I bet I can even make these uniform things look a little better too." _

_"You know my friend is working on that. Maybe you could help her?" _

_Luke licked his lips, meeting Justin's eyes once again. "Maybe I could." _

_"Good. Because, even though I may be religious, I am not enough to start a flipping school about it. Next thing you know, the president will start insisting everyone go to religious schools and everyone believe in the same God. It'll be like the whatever war from whatever time." _

_Well, now that Luke found out that Justin was no history expert, he suddenly felt better…not about Justin being clueless about past events, but about going to school with this angel. It wouldn't be a total bust. _

_Luke didn't protest after that. He just played to Justin's every touch. It wasn't long until their bus came to stop. _

_"Where are we?" Luke asked, raising his head so as to see their surroundings. _

_Justin looked outside the window. "Bout three blocks from school." _

_"Then shouldn't we get off?" _

_"We could spend the whole day together," Justin said dreamingly. _

_Luke smirked, looking down at his attire before looking back up at that beautiful blonde angel that was Justin. "Why not? It doesn't look like I'm properly dressed for this little Christ lover's school." _

_They didn't bother getting off the bus for a while after that. After they did get off though, Luke finally took into consideration what a drastic turn his life had just taken. He was growing a fond liking towards a religious boy. There was something his dad would never believe. That, or just one other thing he'd shrug off. _

XXX

Billy, that was his name. Billy Dowe, the cute twink from the party. I finally remembered his name.

I recalled Billy holding me down in the snow; recall his Chuck Taylor's making contact with my ribs and my back and anything else he could get to. I recall his displeased voice as he scorned me, insulted me, and hurt me with words I don't really remember. He called me a traitor, I think, but of what, I don't know. My allegiance to the Greenhouse was still loyal. I've been keeping tabs with them now and then. I wasn't a traitor to them. My dad had literally booted me out of the house the moment I turned eighteen, I wasn't a traitor there. Kangor was the one that killed Hyde—which to be totally honest I'm still feeling sick over—and I was not really involved in that, so I don't think I was a traitor to that predicament. …

I abandoned my friends and everyone around me after Tiffany had taken her own life. I ignored them, neglected them, and everyone else around. I've felt bad about it for a long time now, but, what can I do? I can't go back. I'm a meta-human, a Bang Baby, a literal freak and therefore, by my records and attempts, am not allowed in civilized society for someone will definitely call the cops on me the first second. I'm safer inside, unseen, unknown. People can just believe I'm dead.

And then I'm reminded of death again. I'm not dead, and I'm not going to be dead for a long, long—god—long ass time. I'm kind of ticked about it really.

I woke up to darkness. I had passed out _again._ I'm getting rather bored of that. Billy was nowhere to be seen. Then again, neither was anything else. Sometimes I wish I had night vision, but then how much fun would Ghosts in the Graveyard be if I could see in the dark. It's funner to play in the dark, but it is not at all fun to be broken and twisted and bleeding and moaning in all the pain in the dark. That's usually not a very good thing. I know from experience. It was how I became a member of the Greenhouse. My initiation was…well…one I'd rather not discuss with mixed company, or anyone at all. You'd have to get me mega drunk and mega happy in order for me to do that. That, or just mega bored off my as s that I really don't care. Good thing though, there was never anyone who asked.

But the darkness was making me uneasy. I tried to take notice of maybe where I was. I was sprawled out, one something soft. Remarkably soft at that. Nice and warm, yet kind of upsetting. I wasn't use to warm and nice and comfy. I was used to hard and cold and unsettling. Unsettling like my insides, swishing around like a hurricane. It was the fear building up again. No matter what I was laying on, soft or hard, warm or cold, the fear was coming. The panic. My head was throbbing again, the headaches becoming worse. Did I have a concussion? I don't know. But it hurt. It hurt to breath, it hurt to lay down. It felt, laying down was upsetting by breaths and making it hard to take in oxygen. I tried sitting up, tried placing my hands down underneath me, to try to raise myself up, but my messed up arm wouldn't support my weight and I fell back. But I think I was barely even that far up. Hard marble surface upsetting my cold flesh, making me shiver. It was getting harder and harder. My breaths quickened but I couldn't get much of any air. I rolled to the side, and quickly regretted it. Pain was not my friend today.

And then, I saw it. Out of the darkness, a form of light. I thought I was dead. I hoped I was dead. And I wondered about one of my theories on death…of all the times to think about them. When we die, do we just keep reliving our lives over and over, eternity after eternity, remaking our mistakes, forever in the years that we live? Wouldn't that be kind of effed up? It's a possibility right? I know this for sure. I can't be going to hell, because as far as I've learned, Earth itself was Hell.

Why would I be thinking about these things in this time? Why? I'm supposed to be scared for my life here, and here I am, mind wandering off once again. And then, I see a shape within the darkness.

I back away. I back away until there's nothing to back into but a…headboard? Where the heck am I? By the feeling of the…bed…I'm sitting on, the comfyness, the…satin pillows? I would have to guess…cha right if it's a five star hotel.

And then, all to suddenly, the lights kick on and I'm blinded. My eyes squeeze shut and my arm comes up to cover my face. I'm shaking, struggling with breath, fear becoming confusion, confusion back into fear. And when I lift my arm slightly, to have a peek at what had just happened, I am surprised. And by the most unlikely of words.

"Boo!"

Before I recall the purple hair and mischievous eyes, that single word and insane feature and demeanor strike me, and I yelp, falling off the edge of the bed, hitting my head on the end table on the way down. I better be dead, or there's going to be hell to pay.

XXX

No, he did not get knocked unconsious again. For once. I just didn't want this chapter to be any longer. And he won't experiance any more knockouts or passouts until he gets way too drunk, or way to tired. But anyways...it was still a long chapter. And the movie Saved scared the shit out of me. Seriously. After all, the only reason i watched it was for Kett Turton.


	4. Chapter 4

"…Am I nothing?" says the flower that sits behind the rose whose petals are dark like blood and large only enough to hide this weeping sprout. "Say I am not. Please!"

Well, if that isn't something I just pulled out of my ass.

XXX

Ice

Chapter 4

XXX

For the past two years, running and hiding had been my greatest means of survival. Stealing and running and hiding. Things I had done before, but never for survival. Only for my own selfish need for an adrenaline high. But since that fateful day at the docks, since I tried to stop Kangor from killing anybody with his rifle, my greatest strength had been the fear of human civilization.

After that day, I was no longer looked at as Ferret Harrison, insane Jackass whose anti-violent streak was disrupted some years ago when someone took the life of the boy he loved…more than anything. More than he ever loved Tiffany, more than he ever loved that boy who watched him behind long brown hair, but never even talked to him. He loved him more than he loved the ocean, than he loved California, than he ever loved before or after.

Justin was my one real love, and he was taken from me. By a traitor and the man I knew as Hyde. Killed him. Bashed him. …shot him.

I tried to get there in time. I tried to save him. I tried to be there for him, but they had him cornered. Tristan Dowe, a member of the Greenhouse—a Satanic Gothic stoner gang known from here to there, to New York and California—drafted in, and betrayed us, and killed Justin. Shot him.

I nearly killed Tristan, but I left him within a mere inch of his pathetic life. He died three weeks later after being in a coma.

I remember now. Billy was his brother. But I wasn't the traitor. Tristan was. Tristan betrayed us all. He accepted his place in the Greenhouse, accepted their mark, and accepted who he was to be. He embraced it. They showed him what he had done wrong before he officially became a member. They brought him to his knees and told him to pray, since that's all he ever did that didn't hurt others like us. They made him pray. They made him stay on his knees for hours. He was not to move. Not to look at them. Not to speak anymore than the prayers. Tristan was ridden of his clothes, his respect, his humanity for weeks, for months. He had gone missing for months. They'd broken him down, made him beg, made him scream, made him bleed. In the end, they gave him their mark, and he forever accepted his place. He told them his promise. He gave himself to them. They would use him now. Use him for whatever they felt. He was theirs. He accepted. He embraced. He smiled.

I knew so much that that smile was fake. I knew so much that he was not, and would never be happy. I knew he hated himself. He hated us. He hated us for using him. I though, never used him. Never.

After all those agonizing weeks with the Greenhouse, becoming a satanic fool like them, he came back to that Christian school anew. We walked side by side, smirking our devilish smirks, making our hair and ourselves entirely black as the dark. My smile would match his, my arm would wind around Justin's slim waist, and we'd walk, with Veronica, Justin's Atheist friend, by our side, her black and purple hair held up proudly in messy pigtails, her uniform skirt deliberately cut down even shorter, completely breaking any dress code the school had to offer. Tristan seemed happy. He seemed content. He seemed complicated, just like the rest of the 'house. He mocked his fellow students, he insulted them, he hurt them verbally and he'd kill them with the glaring of his chocolate eyes. We'd walk, lips jutted in pouts, like the seductive bastards we were back then, and we'd scowl, and taunt, and kill with our glares. Piercing others in the hearts with our hate and killing them just so like that. Killing them on the inside. I remember, Tristan was very good at it.

Very good.

XXX

I felt like a sightless animal. I couldn't see past the blue and purple and yellow dots invading my vision. I couldn't recognize the pain in my arms and legs and torso and head. I couldn't comprehend anything around me. One minute, I'm in the very pit of darkness, struggling to breathe and hoping, frantically, that a giant swinging blade wasn't about to come down, swinging side to side, descending dramatically, centimeter by centimeter until it would cut across my chest and rip at my flesh until I could no longer tell reality apart anymore, and die a slow, agonizing death. And then the next minute, I'm blinded by a brilliant flash of light, and I'm struggling to see, rotating around, causing pain for my injured arm, and then, I'm falling. I was falling far down, farther than any pit I had read about. I was falling into oblivion, and then when I opened my eyes, looking fearfully about me, trying desperately to take in what had just happened to me and where I had ended up, I am shocked by the most unlikely of things. A carefree Shiv, rocking back and forth on the bed, staring down at me with a curious eye, smiling a non caring smile, and speaking to me.

"Dude, why'd you fall off the bed?"

Shiv's voice was ringing in my ears. God I wanted more than anything to rip his head off right there. Unfortunately I couldn't. I took in one agonizing breath after another as Shiv just watched me, like some suffering animal. I raised one hand to my eyes, rubbing them and then letting my fingers slide back along through my hair and grasp at my neck. My bruised muzzle scraped against the blood red carpet I'm laying upon, picking up scents I never knew of. I tasted blood on my tongue, and I swallowed it. But only a few trickles escaped through my lips and ran down to my chin. My eyes opened and closed of their own accord, neither afraid, nor fearless of my predicament. I wondered, for a fleeting moment, if I was safe. Was I safe? Was I ok? Could I now rest? I haven't rested in so long…

"Are you ok?" I hear Shiv's voice again, a bit calmer this time as he leans near me, hanging off the bed, his upper half down by me. I see his long fingers slide along the marble steps, one hand on the red carpet that covered up the center of them. I hadn't realized I'd rolled down two steps as well as hit my head on a nightstand. "Dude?" he's repeating himself. He's asking me if I'm ok. I want to slap him. Is he that blind?

A muffled mumble comes from my mouth, allowing yet another slick stream of blood to escape. I don't know where in my mouth I'm bleeding, but the taste doesn't go away. Shiv leant his head in closer, asking for me to repeat myself again. And so I do, but he still did not comprehend. I give up. I can't form speech quite yet, due to my harsh breathing and panicking mind. Eventually, Shiv slides down the rest of the way to sit by my side, prodding my tattooed bicep with a sharp finger. I shrug at it, moaning a curse word at him—though I don't really believe that a word can be cursed—and turn my head the other way, my back facing him now.

Shiv lets out an exasperated breath as he mumbles something about saving my life or some such thing related. I don't really care at the moment. Right now I just want to know where I am, if I'm finally ok.

"Can you at least sign to me, how you feel?" He asked, annoyed.

I raise one hand and slam it on the floor, though it was more or less a tap, since I'm too exhausted to raise it too far.

"Well, that explains everything," Shiv said, sarcastically. He looked down at me, arching an eyebrow in curiosity, before completely changing his mood. "Dude, you're getting blood on my carpet." He raised my head away from the floor, and my brain felt like it was getting bounced around like a pinball. I moaned in discomfort, and with a hint of relief. I'm limp in his hands as he leant me up against him and wiped the blood from my lips with his own arm. He doesn't seem to care that someone else's blood is on his own skin, but apparently, he's more concerned for his carpeting.

He held my face in one hand as I leant up against him, holding my head and gripping at his knee, which for the record I wasn't really aware of. He looked me in the eye, scrutinizing my battered features before letting me go, allowing me to just lean upon his side. "You are fucked up."

I clenched my eyes shut as my breathing slowed enough for me to let out my one simple response to him. "No…shit."

XXX………………………………

We sat there against the bed, my head fallen back against the mattress. "Where am I?" I asked, groggily.

"Gummer's Tomb," Shiv said enthusiastically. "Used to be my late uncle's old crack house, but after he died, we turned it into our teen hangout and now…well, I finally came up with the money to make my own hotel. I'm hopin' I can get this all finished within the next year. Only got three floors done."

I surveyed the room, my eyes wandering slowly due to the extreme headache I was suffering. It was, to be honest, quite an attraction. Let's face it, Shiv was a far more successful dealer than the rest of the drug pushers in the city.

"Yeah. Hotstreak was wondering why I put you in a suite and I'm all like, dude, compared to what this place is gonna be in the future, this room is gonna look like a crappy ho-motel room. And it is." He eyed me, smiling. I just averted my attention to his long-sleeved Shady shirt. I hadn't registered yet that Shiv's arm was around my shoulders, forcing me to be even closer to him. But I caught on eventually and quickly eyed his hand on my right shoulder. He just giggled before reaching over my head to the nightstand where he grabbed a glass of ice water, which was half gone. "Need a drink?"

I took it greedily and all the blood in my mouth seemed to wash away and I felt a fuck load better.

"Jeeze, you musta been through hell huh?"

"You have no idea," I mumbled, setting the glass down lazily.

"Yeah, Kangor told us what happened." His eyes seemed to change in emotion when he recalled this, as if he was actually feeling sympathy for me. "Man that is beyond fucking cruel."

"Slow death is crueler," I said lowly, my eyes staring off to nothing, the song Paint it Black from Twisted Metal Black—That was a great game. Don't remember who sang it though—suddenly making itself apparent in my mind. I always thought that song, while good, was still a bit creepy.

"Yeesh, you're morbid," Shiv said, his smile coming back. "Talk like you're from the Greenhouse or something."

I would have mentioned that I was a part of it, but I decided to stay silent. No need to raise heads, right? Especially with a satanic gang like them.

"Can you walk?" Shiv asked.

I took a long breath, blowing it out slowly before putting a hand to the wound in my leg. It'd been mended better, with bandages around it. I felt suddenly, way, way better than I had before. I was safe. I was sure.

I nodded my head, a sudden smirk forming on my lips. There was suddenly an upside.

"Great," Shiv said as he quickly stood up, holding his hand down for me. I hesitated before grasping it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. I was still suffering the after effects of a beat down, a little sore, but I was capable of walking for a while. "Why don't you take a shower then? Then, you can come down for a little breakfast. Plus, we got like, an unlimited supply of painkillers." He started to pull me out of the room. My mind was swimming. How can these people be so lucky? How can they? The emptiness in my chest seemed to fade away, leaving me to feel rather warm and—I'm afraid to say—a little giddy. Finally, I was happy.

XXX

Hot water hitting my face and sore body brought me to Heaven. Once again I mention that place. Maybe I should just say Fiddler's Green from now on, yeah? But it truly was something. I hadn't had this feeling in so long. The shower water washed away the dirt and the blood and the pain. I'd found the reason for my bloody mouth and quickly relieved myself from it. I ran my fingers through my now clean hair and slid them along my ribcage, wincing slightly, but knowing I'd be all good a couple more days. My immunity and natural healing was far stronger than that of the normal human being, even before the Big Bang. I broke my leg one summer over in California, and after the doctor saying it may take a few months, it only took a couple of weeks to heal. I was sure that my body would be good in no time. Ok, I hope.

I'm not always so sure of things anymore. I'm never sure when my next meal will be or where it will come from. I'm never sure whose going to come after me, or whose going to use me, or whose going to kill me. I was no longer sure of hope, sure of life; sure of anything. I was only sure that I was alive and that I was, for a small moment in my life, content. …was I alive? Are we alive now? Are we dead and living in what people call Hell? Great, another theory loose from my head. Now I'll be thinking about that for weeks. Damn.

I sigh, rubbing my bruised torso with my clawed fingertips, smiling as I leant my head up against the tile wall, closing my eyes, wondering when this dream would end, and hoping that it wouldn't.

"Hey!" I yelp in surprise—yet again—and look to my side where the ever eager Shiv is standing, the shower door slid aside. My hand is on my heart for a moment, to make sure it's still beating and that this…dumbass hasn't given me a heat attack before glaring at him, annoyed. That's twice in one hour. "I got ya clean clothes and…stuff." He left me with an eager smile of his and I hung my head in agitation. Was I really happy? Was I going to be? Shiv was not going to ruin my "life in heaven" streak.

When I pulled on a pair of holy blue jeans I caught a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror on the door. I was sick. I don't remember that scar being there before. I trace a finger over it as it runs across the black sun I have tattooed on my chest, the design compliments of my late girlfriend Tiffany Stone. Around it I had my last name. I'm completely blue and purple and black and yellow. I watched myself in the mirror, scrutinizing the marks, my skinniness, my sickly image. I remember that scar on my stomach, from when Tiffany died and I hated myself for it, for apparently not making her happy enough, not loving her enough. …But that was all in the past. No need to bring it up.

I don't want to look at myself any longer and pull on the black Atticus t-shirt Shiv had left me before seeing him once again, not caring to knock and just waltzing right in.

"Ok, you have an MP3 player but no batteries. What is up with that?" he held the player out to me to take it. I'd kept it for a while now. I'd listened to it every time I stole a pack of AAA batteries. I took the MP3 away from him and placed it into my pocket. It was full of songs none of these guys would listen to anyways. "I also found…this." Shiv brought up a small square of green paper. It was a one dollar bill folded beyond recognition. "I can't get it open." He started to fiddle around with it before I swiped that away from him too.

"You're not supposed to."

"Than what's the use having a dollar than if you can't spend it?"

I shrugged, not bothering to answer. There really was no right or wrong answer, but I didn't feel explaining my explanation of why I had an unspent dollar.

"And, whose Tyra Hall?" He pulled out the paper Tyra had given me with her phone number on it. "She a fuck buddy of yours or what?"

I didn't think my hand could move so fast, but it did, and I quickly shoved her number into a pocket, my gaze to the floor before I turned back round to the mirror above the sink, sighing as I saw myself. God, not only was my face covered in bruises and scratches, but it was the fact that it was…how it was. I mean…I looked like a horse. I horse with buck teeth. I covered them with my lips though, looking away, silently cursing myself for ever being so anti-war and trying to stop Kangor. I felt Shiv behind me, felt his eyes on my image in the mirror, of me down on myself over nothing I could prevent. I watched him rest his chin on my shoulder, and I wondered why was Shiv so touchy feely? Maybe he was just like that. But it made me feel uncomfortable, that is, until for some reason, he embraced me. Now, I have never had any kind of relationship with this man. I barely even knew him. All I knew was, he was a drug dealer, he had a nice car, he had a nice bike, and he was very popular. And I was more than sure that he knew anything about me. Then why the fuck were his arms around my body? I didn't know. But then again, one of my friends was the same way. She'd hug anyone. Man, a lot of weird unpredictable things were happening today, weren't they?

"Why are you shaking?"

I hadn't noticed. I was too caught up in my own mind to realize what my body was doing. I suddenly realized, I was liking the feeling of somebody holding me. I wasn't holding any affection for Shiv or anything, but just the feeling was getting me to relax. It was just like when Kangor ran his hands through my hair before. It was comforting.

"You scared or something?" I saw his eyes in the mirror. Yes. I was scared. His eyes alone were sending me into another state of fear. "Come on. It's not like I'd pull a knife on you." He paused, and then, before I knew it, he had created a small blade in his hand and held it up to my throat. "Or would I?"

That did it. I pulled away from him, fear reminding me again of what Shiv could have done. I started out of the room, tripping, and, realizing I had no chance of escaping him, curled into a ball, sobbing into my arms. I wasn't trying to cry, but I just couldn't stop the tears. I covered my head with my arms, hoping that maybe I could dig myself into the floor and disappear. But I couldn't, and when I heard him approaching me, I cowered away.

"Dude, I didn't mean it." He actually sounded sorry. No. I couldn't believe him. Tristan also sounded innocent. He wasn't. Shiv wasn't sorry at all. He wanted to hurt me. He wanted to make me bleed. He wanted to see me dead just like everyone else. "Man, I'm sorry." I almost fell for it.

He put a hand on my shoulder. His eyes no longer looked demonic, but actually sympathetic. Yeah right. He wanted to hurt me. He was just a very good liar. But I couldn't ignore his caresses on my bare skin. I couldn't ignore his innocent looking eyes. And my tears slowed.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to stop crying. "It's just…shit. I…I don't flipping know. Everyone just wants to…hurt me."

"Ferret." I didn't think he knew my name, or at least could remember it. "It was just a joke. I do it all the time."

"You don't need to." God, I was so angry with him. Maybe he didn't actually _try_ to hurt me, but he sure did hit a very bad spot.

"I didn't try to scare you or anything. I was just…being me?"

"I hate you." I think it was more of a sarcastic comment when I said it. "Just don't ever do it again."

"Look, this place is a safe house. Besides, who would want Ferret Harrison dead? I mean, you're washed up now, but man, you left a mark on the business district."

Well, he did know who I was.

"Come on, anyone who tags up Alva Industries, along with the guy's house, is ok with me. Wouldn't you consider that a good thing?"

He had a point. Being in with one of the best business men in the city was a very great honor…or at least a good thing. "Just don't ever do it again."

"Great." I saw that trademark smile of his once again, that glint back in his eyes. "Now. How bout some breakfast."

That brought my spirits up, and almost made me forget about our little incident.

XXX

Goodbye.


	5. Chapter 5

"Take it or leave it; don't treat it like shit…"

(And for the record, as you can probably see by the little scroll bar thingy on the side--it's size--isn't too small, so you can see that this chapter isn't very long.) I'm lazy.

XXX

Ice

Chapter 5

XXX

"_You have a real nice place," Justin commented as he slid further into the pool, Luke following him, a somewhat evil grin upon his face. _

"_It's ok. I'd prefer The Hut to this though," Luke replied, giving his house a rather distasteful sneer before averting his attention back to the blonde haired boy. _

"_That neighborhood?" Justin asked. "It's such a dump. And you can't understand a word of those Jamaicans." _

"_Yeah well, better than here. No need to live here. What with the whole we can have whatever we want. I'd even go homeless." _

"_You're weird do you know that?" Justin queried, using his arms to swim backwards, to the deeper ends. _

"_I've been told that once or twice." Luke was following Justin with the utmost lust in his eyes. Since they'd first met just a week ago, Luke had done everything in his power to expose Justin to the thrills of the funner side of life. He'd even taken him to see Derek, and that was quite the experience for Justin, what with Derek's constant groping of Luke and all; Luke simply convinced Justin though that Derek was…kind of like that with some people, and as far as Luke knew, it was true. Now he was cornering him in his pool, after a short visit and introduction of Justin to his father. _

"_I can't believe your dad actually groped my ass though," Justin said with knit eyebrows. _

"_You can expect that from any of us," Luke said simply. "We Harrison's have no shame." _

"_No shame," Justin said as Luke cornered him. _

"_That's right. No moral value really either. We're just the basic, take what you can get people." _

"_So…I'm just a piece of ass to you…" Justin's eyes traveled elsewhere as Luke's arms went to either side of the younger boy, trapping him. _

_Luke's lustful look failed him as he heard these words. It hadn't even been a whole week and he had already broken this boy's trust for him. Nice going Ferret, he thought to himself as he softened his look down to concern. Justin's eyes held betrayal in them, but Luke's eyes finding them dwindled that thought for a moment. _

"_Now if I thought that," Luke said with a faint smirk, "I woulda fucked you the moment we got to Derek's." _

_Justin looked at him, still that look of distrust, but just a bit less than before. His blue eyes scanned for the lies he'd grown accustomed to over the years, but he found none and sighed. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head as he pushed aside Luke's arms so as to escape to the shallower ends again. "I guess…I'm just used to being used. You know I was almost raped once." He looked back at Luke, his eyes growing wide. Luke braced himself. In only one day's time he'd learned that Justin was quite the little rambler and would go on and on like those cheerleader girls on TV. He suddenly wondered what it would be like if they're school actually had cheerleaders and if they'd act that same way that they do in the Technicolor world. _

_As Luke followed Justin to the shallower ends, he half tuned out-half listened to Justin rant about the time he got stuck in the rain and a stranger picked him up and gave him a ride but not before making a request. Luke shook his head, wondering how gullible this kid could possibly be. Well, only five seconds of knowing each other and Justin had started commenting him on his physical features. If that wasn't gullible and naïve, Luke didn't know what was. _

"…_And then he started beating himself and he was all telling me how he'd love me to do this and that and I was all like…" _

"_Justin, Justin…" Luke said, trying to get the blonde's attention. He eventually had to put his fingers over the younger boy's lips, shushing him as he did so. "Dude," he whispered as he pulled his fingers away. "Chill. I'm not gonna rape ya." _

_Justin's eyes wandered warily over Luke, switching from him to the house where Rex Harrison still stood against the wall, smoking probably his third cigarette since the boy had gotten there only a short couple of hours ago. "I'm more worried about your dad…" _

"_Ah don't," Luke said, a smirk upon his face. "My dad wouldn't rape ya unless you were the last cute little boy on Earth." He turned towards his father, giving him a demanding glare that ordered him to go back inside and leave him alone with this cute, naïve and oh so gullible boy. But Rex ignored his son's gesture, flipping his long brown bangs out of his eyes which were the exact same brown as Luke's, though a bit deeper and lost. He gave a some what evil smirk towards Luke who quickly retaliated with an annoyed sneer before turning back to Justin, who was tracing the tribal design that encircled Luke's left bicep with much curiosity. Luke couldn't help but smile down at him, watching him admiring him. "What are you doing?" He asked, his voice low, or at least as low as he could get it. _

_Justin quickly pulled his hand back, alarmed at Luke's sudden change in his demeanor. "Sorry…" _

"_For what," Luke said with a scoff. _

"_Nothing…" Justin regained his composure and moved a lock of his wet hair back out of his face, looking up at Luke with a slightly more confident streak. "Just wondering about your tattoos, that's all." _

"_Heh. Sorry about the Devil's star. If I'da known I'd be bringing home a Christian boy I woulda done more to cover it up." _

"_Why did you get it?" _

_Luke frowned, bringing his eyes to rest upon the cloudy sky as he let out a long breath, coming back down with a smirk. He stared at Justin, for a max of thirty seconds before he answered: "Why not? It was a cool design. And it was at a really nice discount. What with a friend of mine working there an' all…" _

"_And what about this one?" Justin asked, looking again at the tribal tattoo. _

"_This?" Luke said, nodding his head towards the small ring. "This was a cheapie." He wasn't about to go into detail about the greenhouse, not like this certain tattoo was much for that place, he just figured it was best to get some type of tattoo such as this one. And he wasn't about to talk about the tattoo just below his naval with the letters GH scarred into his skin in an old Medieval style. No need to tell his Christian angel about him being in with a Satanic group. "I just wanted it." _

XXX

I shivered, watching as my breath showed up in clouds before me. My eyes stuck to the ground as my teeth lightly chattered, the clicking sound reverberating in my ears. My hands were frozen and my skin turned purple. My heels tapped against the snow-covered ground, my knees rising up and down rapidly as I tried to keep warm. Shiv apparently didn't want to keep me around the other building and so, lead me to this place, the old Juvy hall they had come back to for the winter, which actually angered me. This neighborhood I hadn't been in for the past two years. It was a poor neighborhood when I lived in it, and it didn't look like it had gotten any better. I had bunked up here the day I turned eighteen and my dad kicked me out. Literally. There was really nothing personal by it. He just does what he says he's gonna do and if he says I'm outta here when I'm eighteen, then I'm out when I'm eighteen. He never said I couldn't come back. He never said I wasn't welcome. He never said I couldn't get my stuff. I guess…well I guess I was just too lazy. I don't know. I rarely ever went back there. Hell, I rarely ever woke up. Guess it was a typical college kid thing or something. Maybe.

Of course, living in the apartment complexes cost me. Me and my friends bunked together and to tell you the truth, it was kind of uncomfortable sometimes. There was Derek. He had a thing about "touching" and I wasn't too comfortable with him slapping my ass every minute of the day. Brandon was no picnic. The dude was deep and there were these times he was completely stone cold. And in those times, I was freaked out. And Reggie, Derek's step-bro, well, he was Reggie the skaterboy with the girlfriend taller than he was. He worked at a pornshop, where he got me a job as well. But even he I couldn't be around for long periods of time. So with all of us chipping in for rent, it wasn't so bad. And then there was college to pay for…

"Hey dude, I thought I told you to come inside," Shiv said as he came up behind me on the stoop. "It's fucking freezing out here, man."

"Why do you care so much?" I asked in a shaky voice, still looking at the ground.

"Why shouldn't I care?" He asked, sitting down beside me and flinching when he felt the coldness of the cement stoop. "Damn that's cold."

"I'm a nobody to you," I said, linking my fingers together. "Why do you care?"

"Oh jeeze man," Shiv said as he rolled his eyes to the sky. "We gonna start with this 'I'm not worth a damn fucking thing and you shouldn't waste your time with me cuz I'll just off myself later anyways' thing again?"

"Well it's true."

"You're gonna kill yourself later then?"

"Why not?" I said, shrugging. "It's a good day to die."

"It's a bad day to die. It's cold."

"I'll be too so what does it matter?" I looked over at him this time; only long enough to see his eyebrows furrow, and then my eyes were down again.

"You're a trick, man." Shiv said crossing his arms and shivering from the cold. "God, fucking depressing just watching you."

"So look away. I never asked for you to do anything."

"You got one heck of an attitude you know that?" I could sense the irritation in his voice, and knew I was pushing some buttons.

"I've been reminded here and there." And I just kept on pushing.

He glared at me, hard. I could tell he hated these cases like me. The kind that retorted with just what you didn't want to hear. With just what got your nerves ticked. I put up argument after argument with people. And they all came close to socking me in the face. A few even did. But, anti-violent me just took it and didn't return any. Just tried blocking them until Brandon or Derek would step in. I got my as s kicked a lot.

Shiv blew out one long breath while still glaring angrily at me before he asked, "Are you ever happy? At all?"

I shrugged. I was still in a stint and I was still angry. I wasn't going to be a pleasant person for a few days. "Only on the days I can be. You know, when I got some weed, or some fine girl in my lap…or a little of both…"

"Jesus," he said, running his fingers through his hair and resting his hand behind his head as he leant up against the wall. "You're bad. Like…real bad. God how can people stand you?"

"They leave me alone." I don't know why, but I was just getting angrier and angrier. I was getting to that stage where you were not going to hear one good thing coming out of my mouth.

"Ugh! You are pathetic," he said, pushing himself forward so he was just a few inches away from me. "You're like, like those fucking gothic cases man. Think you should just die because you're not worth it and life isn't worth it. At all. You don't think you were put here, just that you are here and you don't belong."

I wasn't fazed in the least. "That's the way it goes." I lied. I never thought that way. Not since I was younger.

"You know what?" Shiv said, standing up. "You're just like flipping Ebon." That right there, got my attention. "God, his whole damn life he walked around like he was nothing. Always in the damn dark. Always like that stupid wanna be Goth kid who thinks he's depressed." He stopped, sighing and shaking his head. "Not that he wasn't depressed." He looked off, and I looked up at him. His face had changed drastically from angered to hurt. And I stopped. Something I had never imagined would have happened had happened. It was real. I never thought it. It almost hurt me. "Whatever man," he said, shaking his head. "Just…are you coming in or not?"

I was stuck. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I could only look at him. He didn't look back. He just stared at the floor and blew into his hands. I'm sure that Shady shirt wasn't doing anything for his warmth. But I couldn't think beyond that. My mind was lost in everything I never thought I would hear. Ebon was stuck in my mind. And he would be there, just like that, for a long time now. I'd never look at him the same way again. And I have a feeling that my own feelings about him were about to change seriously. I was about to take a long fall into this place Ebon had created for himself. All of a sudden, I knew who he was, and I wanted to know more.

"Well?" Shiv asked, still a bit angry, but his face only showing hurt.

My eyes finally unlocked, and they wandered every way they could before I stood up, my tired legs straining to hold up my body and shaking as the cold wind blew against my skin the holes in the jeans exposed. My time here, whether it'd be long or short, was definitely going to be a trip. I was about to enter a world I would have never thought up, and I was scared. But I let Shiv lead me in. I feared I wouldn't come back out. The panic was coming back into my body.

XXX

And...yeah.


	6. Chapter 6

Not only are eleven baby rats--plus four adult rats--draining me, but so is this story.

XXX

Ice

Chapter six

XXX

_"Oh Daddy Dearest…" Ferret chimed as he wrapped his arms over his father's shoulders._

"_Now what?"__ Rex asked, exasperated. His brown eyes cast down to the floor as his son kissed him on the cheek._

"_Nothing.__ I just love you." He kissed him on the temple._

"_Leave me alone," Rex said, shoving his son away and adjusting his leather jacket. "Are you high?"_

"_How'd you guess?" Ferret asked, snickering. _

_Rex rolled his eyes and walked away. He was not put out to be a father._

XXX

I was mad. I don't rightly know why I was mad. I really had no reason. No real good reason anyways. But I was mad nonetheless. Shiv was completely ignoring me now. I was nothing but an ornament in the building to him. Maybe that's what made me mad. Shiv was mad. I knew that because he was still stalking around the room grumbling about Ebon going off again and that he might not be coming back for a while. I don't like to admit it, but it disappointed me. He was scary, sure. He scared me. But there was just something about Ebon that made me look at him a little different. Made me observe him a little. Hotstreak was here. I'm sure I was upset about that. Him and me never got along. Never, and I've known him for most of his life. Talon was also here, but most of what she was doing was arguing with Hotstreak because he had an anger problem.

So did I.

I was angry and I didn't know why.

"Yo, Ferret." He speaks to me finally. "I gotta talk to you for a sec."

I barely even opened my eyes to look at him. Shiv was so…so…I was not in the mood for Shiv right now.

"Fire away," I mumbled as I lounged on the couch, brooding. Yes, brooding. I was not a happy camper.

"See, you know I work—or well, I used to work—down at Black Top's, right?"

I nodded. I'd gone to Black Top's garage as often as I could, mainly because Derek worked there at the time, and I had had more than enough run ins with Shiv waving a blow torch around or something. I have a faint scar on my side where he almost practically missed me by like an inch, but I was still burned. You can barely see it though.

"Well, there's this guy. You know 'im. And well... he's got this _sickass__ Mazda _man—_sickass__—_that he's tricking out ok? And he wants a morbid beyond morbid design for it. Like zombie slave boys or something like that I don't know and well, I can't draw for crud, so I'm asking you."

How can he talk like that?

He slammed a notebook down on my stomach and looked at me with pleading eyes. All I did was roll over and ignore him.

"Oh come on. Stop brooding already. You're starting to look like Ebon."

"Joy."

"Seriously Ferry."

Since when does Shiv have the right to call me Ferry? Only Justin and Tiffany and Derek have that pleasure. Oh yeah, and Tony Hawke does it sometimes too, but this man has no right. No right. I was getting angrier.

"Pleeeeeaaaasssse," he whined like a four year old.

Man, he is annoying.

"Come on. It means a lot to him. And my back pocket."

I turned back towards him. "You bring me in here, then ignore me for the past two hours, and now you're asking me to draw you a picture? Dude? You don't even know me." I threw the notebook harshly at him. Sadly he caught it good.

"Oh come on Ferret. Hotstreak's the only other guy here who can draw that kind of stuff, but he's being a total asshole. You know him, Fer. Trust me, I asked him already."

"I ain't doin' it neither, so go find someone else."

"It's Brandon's car. Come on, you know Brandon Benson, he's like, your best bud. Slave owner of one Izzy Vercetti, only like the hottest piece of twinkie Asian ass in the whole city…aside from me of course…"

"I don't care," I growled at him, and turned my back on him permanently. Nothing else he could say was going to change my mind.

"He'll let you have a run with Izzy."

"Fine." I turned completely over and snatched the notebook away from him. "You got a pencil?" He whipped out a pencil from I don't even want to know where and I sat back and began drawing at random. A good lay with Izzy was as good as any payment really. Course…I probably would have liked a new skateboard too. "And I'm gonna need your phone later, too."

XXX

_"Life's good," Derek said as he took a puff of the cigartte in his hands._

"_Maybe for you," Ferret said back, taking the cig from him and bringing it to his own lips. They were lounging about on top of Black Top's Shop, escaping the noise and clatter and chaos from inside. Today had been a riot. One little drug bust in the neighborhood, and everyone was going crazy. Normally it wouldn't be so chaotic, but a dealer was killed and Black Top's fake leg was missing as well. Not to mention, someone's kid got lost in the crowds and a goat was running around town—escaped from a petting zoo from a traveling carnival—_**and** _a mechanical bull was crazing around as well, Sandy, it's owner, unable to get it under control. The guy may have been a genius but could he get his inventions under control? __Seriously…_

"_Wonder how things are __goin__' inside now. Think somebody got knocked unconscious by Black yet?" Derek asked with a smile._

_Ferret shook his head. "I don't know." _

"_Feelin__' ok?"_

_Ferret just sighed and crossed his arms over the ledge. "Life's just __takin__' a bad turn in the Ville these days."_

"_It's not just that is it?" Derek asked, taking the joint back. Ferret didn't answer. "Let me guess? This has to do with Justin don't it?"_

"_He still doesn't trust me after he saw me with that slut Marco. I mean, I didn't try to do anything, it's just, it was my first night as a __Greenhouser__ and they like, __suped__ me up on __something and Marco just came all on top of me and shit and I was drunk and I didn'__t want anything at all I didn't. He should know that.__H__e should know, I love him.__Him.__ Not some __beaner__ slut."_

"_Watch it dude, Marco's bro's downstairs," Derek said, not really sounding serious about it though. He rarely sounded serious about anything._

"_I don't give a fuck. __I just…god."__ He held his head in his hands, his long, __ungelled__ Mohawk hiding his face. "He won't even talk to me."_

"_Dude," Derek said, laying a hand on Ferret's shoulder, causing the teen to look up. "He'll come around again, you know. He can't be mad at you forever."_

"_But…I don't __wanna__ lose him at all."_

_Everything was just out of __wack__ in the Ville. _

_"D!," came the voice of the teenagers other daily companion, Brandon Benson, who, as usual, was dressed in his all black attire and leather knee length coat. He came up to his friends, his usual look of anger already applied as he came face to face with Derek._

_"Yeah, Bran?"__ Derek asked, nearly exaggerated, as if Brandon were his mother calling his name._

_"I need you to leave," Brandon said casually, brown eyes deep and frown apparent._

_Derek scoffed, took another puff of the cigarette, and raised an eyebrow at Brandon. "What's up with you?" he asked._

_"Just leave," Brandon told him, never faltering in his angry stance._

_Derek blew the smoke out through his teeth and glanced over at Ferret, who only nodded and went back to sulking. _

_With one last hit, Derek flicked the cigarette at Brandon's boots, blew smoke in his face, and left, mumbling about Brandon being such an as__shole__ as he went down the stairs._

_"So what was that for?" Ferret asked, sweeping a hand down the back of his head and then resting it with the other on the ledge. _

_"I needed to talk to you," Brandon said, copying Ferret's gestures, both hands on the building and eyes staring out at nothing in general. _

_"Bout what?"_

_Brandon sighed, the anger in his eyes gone. __"About Justin."_

_Ferret looked at him, eyebrows raised in anticipation. Did Brandon see Justin? Did he talk to him? Did Justin want to leave or did he want to give __Ferret__ another chance?_

_"Ferret…" He sighed again and pulled on the messy spikes of his black hair with ringed fingers. "Well, you know me, right?"_

_"Yeah," Ferret said, wondering why Brandon was asking him that if he had just mentioned Justin. Brandon didn't even interact with Justin a whole lot. How was this related?_

_"I mean…you know I don't back down." He looked the other teen in the eye, and moved his gaze up a bit to realize Ferret's hair was fading back to brown. He didn't take his eyes off the light colored __roots. __"From anything."_

_"Well__…you're a part of the Greenhouse. Of course you don't."_

_"I'm an asshole Ferret. __A big one.__ Don't be afraid to tell me that anytime." He brought his attention back to Ferret's eyes, which were filled with confusion._

_"So…….What does that have to do with Justin?"_

_"I saw him walking in the rain a couple days ago. And I picked him up. He told me about you and Marco and…I __was__ going to take him home but…he wouldn't get out of the car."_

_Ferret glanced to the streets below and then back up to Brandon. "So…"_

_"So I took him to my place. He hung out there for a few hours and asked me for, well, weed."_

_Ferret's eyes widened. __"Weed?__ He doesn't smoke weed."_

_"He did with me."_

_"Well…why did you let him have it?"_

_"Why not?__ I was about to start up the pipe anyways, and, he was there…"_

_"God, Bran." Ferret slumped and held his head in hand, shaking it. "Is that what you wanted to tell me…or did something else happen?"_

_The older teenager didn't answer right away. He knew Ferret would be pissed. The other cocked his head at him, expecting more._

_"He got high, he got giggly, and so I decided to just lay him down on the couch. Unfortunately, he wouldn't stay there."_

_"So, you slept with my boyfriend."_

_"He said he didn't __wanna__ be alone," Brandon said smoothly. __"Anything wrong with that?"_

_Ferret shook his head more, taking his eyes away from Brandon. Things were not right. Not right at all. __"Anything else?"_

_"He asked me if I thought he was beautiful."_

_"You said yes didn't you?" Ferret could already feel the tears stinging his eyes._

_"Yeah, I did." He thought the city looked dead as he gazed upon it._

_"You fuck '__im__ too?" It took every ounce of control he had to keep the tears at bay. But they were pushing hard._

_Brandon lowered his head, his body feeling heavy. __"Just so you know, I don't regret it."_

_And the tears fell._

_XXX_

That's what I needed. A nice joint.

I blew the smoke out threw my teeth and grinned, Izzy Vercetti, the hottest piece of twinkie Asian ass in the whole city, sitting on my lap. I had thrown the drawings of his seductive body to the coffee table in front of me and wrapped one arm around his slim waist. Izzy was a beauty. His black hair was styled uneven, and most of it overlapping and falling over the right side of his face. His eyes were the most beautiful color of hazel and his pale skin—compliments of his white family heritage—was smooth and spotted with a few tattoos of sluttish images. His teeth were perfect, his smile was perfect. His whole body was perfect. He looked fucking ass sexy with his tight low rider jeans and belly shirt, exposing a pierced naval. I loved the feeling of his long fingers coming through my hair and caressing my face. He kept asking me to kiss him.

"What's it like?" he asked curiously, seductively, a playful grin on his face. "Is it like regular kissing, or is there a spicy twist to it."

I loved this boy.

Hotstreak walked past us with a glare.

"Wut up Franny?" I said, grinning, happy I was the only person in the world—now that Tiffany was dead—that had a right to call him that.

"You want me to punch your face in?" he threatened, smoke emitting from his clenched fists.

"Chill, little cuz. You can have Izzy anytime you want." I took another drag. "You know he wants you more than anyone else."

"Ain't that the truth," Izzy said, eyeing Hotstreak with a certain lust.

Hotstreak would have caused a confrontation with us, but he backed off and headed to another room. Besides, he knew I could kick his ass…well he knew _Izzy_ could kick his ass. After all, Izzy was in with…whoever that Wade guy is that Hotstreak hates so much.

Izzy joked a "rarr" and turned back to me, smiling that awesome smile. "So…are you gonna show me what it's like to be kissed by Ferret Harrison…the meta-human I mean, because I've done a lot more with the human one."

"It's the same thing," I told him. He took the joint from me and finished it off. That made me annoyed.

"Oh I highly doubt it." Izzy was one seductive and persuasive little bitch. Not only was the boy one of my best friend's own personal play thing, but he was also in with Dakota's biggest gang the Nynes. Hell, he was a member. Straight from the gangs in California he moved up to this one. In the process of the transfer, he ended up in the beat down at the docks and wound up with these "awesome as all hell" ghosting powers. You know, walking through walls, going invisible, making other people with him invisible. The force field thingy…all that fun stuff. Man, everybody but me got the cool powers. I was a very jealous camper.

"Come on Ferret. Lay some suger on 'im." I felt Shiv's hand crack down on my head and ruffle my hair before he took a seat in the chair near the couch, an anxious smile on his face as he took up the notebook. "Nice, nice. I like." He eyed Izzy. "And I know Bran'll like it too." Any sane person who respected a boy's beauty would love those pictures of Izzy. I took the whole "sexually active but I'll tease you with my body 'till you scream" way. Bran would never find another artist who would take sexual fantasy as literal as I did.

"Since when are you in with Brandon Benson?" I asked him, rather annoyed that Shiv was now supposedly chummy with _my _friend.

"Since we raced each other three weeks ago. Ya know, before the big snowfall. Tied. Been chums since."

"You sicken me, dude."

"Come on, Ferret, I thought you actually _wanted_ me."

"Can you be patient?" I sure was crabby today.

"Rarr."

"Ok, ok, we'll do it." I chucked the pencil I had placed on the table at Shiv to get his attention. "Any room where I could be…" I humped up into Izzy to picturize my point. That's right, picturize.

"Oh sure…um…take Ebon's room, he's not around anyways…" he was barely even listening to himself. He was the kind of man who would probably choose the money over his family any day.

"Which one is that?" Again, I was rather annoyed at his lack of detail he put into his words.

"I've been raving at you for how many hours today about how you've been a stereotyped goth kid like Ebon. Go figure it out."

What was his beef?

I shooed Izzy away, promising our future fling would be in only a short few minutes with just a wink of an eye. All I got back was a bit chy huff and a turn of the hip before he sauntered off. God, Izzy could be such a queen. But, aside from him, I had other matters now to attend to for the next few minutes. "How are they?" I asked Shiv, leaning forward. Of course, I already knew he liked them. But Brandon Benson was a hard man to please. If you had just the slightest flaw, he'd hang you out to dry. He was the total definition of an as shole. That's why we loved him.

"Beyond awesome," Shiv said, smiling and looking up at me. When he wasn't out reeking havoc for the pleasantry of seeing Static ignite him with a crapload of electricity, Shiv was actually easy to hang with. I'd done it only a few times before, but only when Kangorr and Ebon were around as well. Not by myself. But I underestimated the predicament. Shiv was an easy going guy for a rumored psychopath. "Now the only problems I need to worry about are my own." He tossed the notebook carelessly onto the table and leant back in his chair, sighing. "Never gonna get this party down if I don't get some celebs."

"You're throwing a party?" I asked, rather confused. "It's below fucking freezing out there. Nobody's gonna even wanna go near a window, it's that fucking cold."

"It's my yearly Christmas party, except, big problem is, I have no celebs to attract any goers, now that my girls outta town."

"Your…girl?"

"Shiv thinks he's the fiancé of Candide," Hotstreak said as he wandered in with a bottle of Budweiser. He made me want to cry. I hadn't gotten drunk in a long as s time. "F uckin' nuthead."

"Keep talkin', Hotshot." Shiv rubbed at his lip, which I noticed now had three rings in it. I could guess why he never wore them when he was doing wrong. "We know you're just jealous."

"Jealous of your fantasies? I'm sure." He took a seat on the other end of the couch, took an annoyed glance my way and continued talking to Shiv.

"Any ideas other than her?" Hotstreak asked.

Shiv shook his head. "I'd call Bam back in Pennsylvania, but…I don't know. I think he's in Europe again." He rubbed at his face, fingers reaching back into the purple strands of hair under a beanie. "And his brothers on tour…"

"What about that one garage band?"

"Those kids…dude, nobody's gonna come to see a bunch of highschoolers."

"They're good."

"Oh, just cuz you're good buddy Button's on the dang guitar don't make a dang difference ok? No body is gonna wanna come to see a bunch of loser kids ok?"

"You know what, Shiv, you better watch yourself," Hotstreak told him with a fiery glare. "Talk smack about my brother and I'll smack a fireball right up your ass."

"Wow," I muttered. "That's pretty graphic."

"You got any ideas?" he asked, turning his glare towards me. Of course the dude is scary I'll admit, but as far as I was concerned he was still my old girl's little brother and nothing more. A scary little brother, sure.

I traded glances with each of them before shrugging my shoulders. "Only guy I know is all the way in Amsterdam."

"Give 'im a call," Shiv said, throwing a cellphone my way. I caught it quickly, wondering why he needed to go out and cause havoc and crime during the other times of the year if he was rich enough to throw parties and build hotel. "You said you needed to use a phone anyways."

I looked down at the phone, sighed, and stood up, depositing it into my pants pocket. "He's probably stoned right now out of his mind…I'll call him later though."

"Do it fast ," Shiv urged me. I think I missed the more insaneish Shiv. "I don't have a lot of time. This Christmas party tradition can't break…especially not this year cuz we got twice the amount of Bang Babies and quadruple the amount of people. Ok?"

"Ok…" I murmured, heading down the hall in search of Ebon's room. And I was high as hell.

Of course, it wasn't that hard to find. It had "Born Free" scratched into the surface of the door and inside the room it was dark and red paint splattered the walls with words and phrases. It was kind of depressing…and morbid…and weird. But the sight of Izzy sprawled on the bed, completely naked with sheets barely even covering anything unmentionable, brought in light. He was so pale, and the black light illuminated his skin and his glow in the dark hooker boy tattoo. Seeing him nearly made my mouth water.

As I crossed the room, pulling off the hoodie and t-shirt, the word HATE on one wall caught my attention. I stopped briefly to observe it. Like the rest of the words it was painted in red, but it was a lot larger, a lot more eye catching. I took it to be either the first word Ebon had written on the wall, or the word he saw the most. I looked back at Izzy, remembering how much I hated my life these days. I hated the fact that Shiv was keeping me here. That he was acting like he cared. I hated Hotstreak. I hated my dad. I hated Justin. I hate him for being so naïve. So fucking naïve. I hated myself for doing that crap with Marco, not stopping Justin, not seeing him with Brandon…I knew something was wrong. Why the heck didn't I stop it? Why couldn't I stop the gang wars. I knew there was something there. I didn't know what it was, but it wasn't good. Instinct told me to go there. My heart told me to stop Kangor from taking out the gang leaders. My fear told me to hide. As for my spirit…it was crushed. And as hard as I had tried to fix it…to make myself better…nothing ever worked out for me. Justin, Tiffany, Rex...It just wasn't fair.

Sighing, I lay down on the bed next to Izzy. The boy smiled at me, ran his fingers over my scarred and tattooed flesh and brought them up to my face, tracing my jaw as he looked at my eyes. Not into them…just at them. I didn't look back. Just stared at the dark ceiling, wondering what else there was for me to do. I let him have his kiss…but I didn't move at all after that. Just curled up and went to sleep, the last thing on my mind being, why would someone want anything to do with my horse faced self.

XXX

This is not an easy story to write. Especially in the first person.


End file.
